Dark Desires
by Miss Nae Malfoy
Summary: Hermione is sent on a mission issued by Dumbledore. She will have to travel back to 1942, where Tom Riddle was in his Seventh year at Hogwarts to capture his attention and ultimately his desire, But Hermione never planned on falling into his dark embrace.
1. Mission: Tom Riddle

"I don't want you to do this. It's not bloody safe!" Ron hissed loudly, his hot breath tinting my fair-skinned cheeks a ruby red. "It's ridiculous." The red-headed boy shook his head, the auburn shaggy locks flying in all directions at a brisk pace. "Harry? Ginny? Mum?" Ron turned to everyone in Dumbledore's office. Albus' Phoenix sat perched, staring evilly at Ron, who outspoke his master- our Headmaster. We all sat in the home of a thousand artifacts, all at least a hundred years old. It felt like a sanctuary once you passed the moving Gargoyles that guarded the place. Under my Gryffindor crested robes, I relaxed in my striped pajama set. It was not yet an hour before, about midnight, when Ginny Weasley abruptly shook me from my slumber. Along side Ginerva was Harry Potter, who looked both antsy and dreadful. When I arrived at the meeting, Ronald a few minutes late, I was automatically hit with the feeling that everyone knew something I didn't. Much of the Order had shown up that night, making his office seem a little smaller than it actually was.

Harry Potter, in all of his glory, stood towards the back with Ginny right beside him, their hands interlocked. "Hermione is brave, and it's ultimately her decision if what Professor Dumbledore has said is ridiculous or not." He shrugged, his glance lingering on my face longer than it ever did. Ginny nodded in agreement to Harry's words.

The Order of the Phoenix was compiled of great, brave witches and wizards. I felt the eyes of Lupin, Tonks, and Moody on me at that particular moment. In my opinion, they were the bravest- but where intellectual power was needed, people like Molly Weasley, Professor Snape, and Professor McGonagall were prominent. So why was I, Hermione Granger, the chosen child to complete Dumbledore's task? "I understand your worries, Mr. Weasley, fully." Dumbledore stood from his high throne and leaned forwards, toward us with his fingers splayed in front of him, supporting his leaning body. "This is not a whimsical plan, I assure all of you. It has taken deep consideration, and I've finally decided that Miss Granger is completely qualified and the best suited to do this." The mission was simply deemed 'time travel'.

"Professor, correct me if I'm wrong, but you are asking me to travel back in time?" My eyebrows knitted together. Everyone knew time-traveling was dangerous. One wrong move and the whole future could end up in a more horrible catastrophe than it was currently.

"This mission is nothing close to simple, and not straightforward at all. On behalf of the Order and the Light side, I am requesting your assistance in righting this wrong that has fallen unto the Wizardry world. You could very well be the answer to all of our problems; you have the potential to be the solution, on a wide scale." Dumbledore's words struck a chord within me. I wanted to attain the bravery and pride Harry owned, along with my brains I already had. "Hermione Granger, I believe in you to pull this off without a hitch far more than I believe in myself for this to work." I nodded, having been pulled in by his twinkling eyes. His half moon glasses were gone, only to be replaced by an onset of defined wrinkles.

"Why must it be Hermione? Why must the traveler be a girl?" Charlie Weasley questioned bluntly, his earring shining in the soft glow of the candles.

"As I have mentioned, Miss Granger is both intelligent and has proven to be worthy of honor, earning his full qualification for this assignment. As for the gender part, well…" Dumbledore looked down at his desk and then back to us, "I believe everyone knows that I was a professor here at Hogwarts when Tom Riddle began his first year at twelve years old, just a tad bit over the qualifying age. But that little information made all the difference. He was always a year ahead in his thoughts, his school management, and…his affection. As a Transfiguration professor, I never made it a priority to know every student's private life, but Mr. Riddle's was always much too private for the Headmaster at the time's liking. Headmaster Avienne kept a special lookout for Tom Riddle. His study proved that few girls ever caught Riddle's attention, and they were never ventures that lasted."

I shuddered at the thought of girls swooning at Voldermort's sight. Who in their right mind could not sense pure evil from that beast- even when he was part man? "So, you want Hermione to seduce him then?" Ron's voice cut into the silence that, in fact, was filled with all of our unspoken thoughts. Riddle's description seemed like an average Seventh year boy, enveloped in his schoolwork and spending some time snogging- not an evil madman hell bent on ruining the world.

I winced at his vulgar words. "No, Mr. Weasley, I merely foresee that Miss Granger will better connect with the young Tom Riddle in the event that she is a female." Mrs. Weasley and Tonks nodded, as if they knew exactly what Dumbledore was saying. Ron still shook his head, muttering profanities in a whisper.

Molly Weasley cleared her throat and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, "How long will sweet Hermione have?" she looked over at me with a dear smile. I noticed her rain boots still dripping, and her casual clothes extra starched. Molly was a woman that took care of her family, and all of the friends that came along with it. Harry and I were some of them- _"the best of them!"_ as she once put it. To know Molly Weasley was to know a real woman, a real mother, a real saint. I hadn't ever heard a swearword or bad curse slip from her lips since I met her first year.

"There is no timeframe. Up until he splits his soul- that is when you must take action." He looked directly at me. "Putting you into the past, adding your name to the seventh year Class of 1942, the next meal you choose- it all affects the future. The future changes. My only fear is your outcome, Miss Granger. One wrong move and your future will be forever muddled."

"And what do you mean by muddled?" I questioned my fear.

He sighed and sat back down. His hand stroked his long, grey beard thoughtfully. "Once I cast the spell on you, your body will leave to 1942…almost like apparition, just to another time. even though I will have let you time travel to fix a problem. I could not do the same to another problem if something goes amiss in your mission-"

"Because if I die or cause the death of another that I wasn't supposed to, you putting me back in time would have never happened." I filled in the blanks, my mind clearing up the fog that settled when Ron began doubting Dumbledore's plans. Dumbledore proudly smiled and nodded. "So, if I in fact "mess up the cycle", I won't disappear? I will just…stay in that time?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, indeed, Miss Granger. You will grow old with the rest of your peers. But, as I have stated before, I have full belief in you." Professor McGonagall quietly agreed, while other murmurs of approval filled the room.

I summoned the strength to think it over.

"_Have you no scruples?" I screeched at Ron, deflecting an onslaught of hexes. The Death Eaters were gaining in closer on us. It was Ron's bright idea to infiltrate the Death Eater post in Moscow, where I promised myself I would never go. Draco Malfoy controlled everything that went in and out of that camp; he ran it like a ship- always constant, clean, and completely under his control. I knew he was too risky to fight with, or overthrow for that matter. Like Ron, I wanted to absolutely crush Malfoy and all of his followers, to avenge our lives of misery at Hogwarts and our few first months as Auror Trainees in the War. Now, almost every member of Dumbledore's Army and The Order were fully qualified Aurors. "We can't do this!" I screeched at him, huddling behind the large Oak for protection. He dodged out from behind his bush and threw dozens of curses and shot back twice as many. _

_The differences between Ron and I were many, most though being our patience levels. Harry and Snape journeyed off to catch a lead on another Horcruxe, leaving Ron to think he could whatever he pleased while they were away. Dumbledore didn't quite agree with Ronald's "brilliant" plan, but since Ron was an appointed General, there wasn't much arguing when he had already convinced the others that this would work. But at the moment where he and I were backed into a small cove, the others having attacked the busy capital from different angles, I hated Ronald for having no sense when he needed it most._

_There was another major difference. I would never use an Unforgivable curse. "Avada…" I blocked out the rest of his mantra and left the comfort of the trees. That was the fourth time he used that cruse in the last hour. How many did he want to kill with that horrible curse? We were here to capture and imprison, not murder!_

_I aimed my wand and shouted a little-known curse that caused your clothing to incinerate and make you feel as if you were burning alive, also- a hallucinogen tenfold. I lifted my wand and cast it again on the same group, this time flicking my wrist a little harder for a greater effect. "Flamme Aturo!" I did the same to another cluster. This curse lasted awhile, and it eventually paralyzed the brain of its victim for a few days. Due to the lack of serious side-affects and very few fatalities, it was a legal curse. That was another difference between him and me. I took time to cast legal, effective spells rather than rambling off mindless curses that came with a life-sentence to Azkaban. I hated Ron for that. "There!" I saw him point to a group of flying broomsticks that emitted golden smoke, signally the approach of Azkaban officers and the Ministries lackeys. Leaving this mess to them, we dodged the trees and undergrowth of the shadowy north part of Moscow. It was snowing heavily and the trees, including bushes and flower stems, were bare as the night._

_Of what I could still remember all of those months ago, I faintly recall Ronald taking my hand and pulling me into a warehouse-type building. Everything looked and smelled bran new. "Keep quiet-" He didn't finish his sentence before a swift paralyzing curse was placed unto him. I squealed like a bleeding pig and shot into the dark._

"_Granger, please." Draco Malfoy's voice cut into the air. I heard his footsteps near my hiding place and struggled to keep my panting silent. Easy breathing was gone. I was an unsuspecting victim when he bent down and yanked me to a standing position by my hair. "Poor Weasley always had a big mouth." He shrugged nonchalantly and took me with him to a rather large room, with no windows and paper scattered everywhere. "You're little weasel boyfriend thought it smart to ravage all of my belongings first. How stupid. All he did was give my men time to prepare." Malfoy chuckled and tossed me carelessly on a seat. For good measure, he snatched the wand from my hand and ordered a nonverbal spell to lock the door. He turned his back to me and began going through paper, grabbing some and stuffing them in his expensive carry on._

"_What are you doing?" I eyed critically. He captured me, and only took me to his office a hallway away from my petrified boyfriend, that would be waking in the next hour? It didn't make sense. "You're not going to kill me." It was more of a statement rather than a question. "You could have done that instead of petrifying Ron. You could have done a lot worse things to him than-"_

"_Are you trying to encourage me?" He sneered and stuffed a few articles from the table into his bag. "I'm collecting important things from my former office. I give those Ministry goons fifteen minutes to locate this spot and move in. Weasel has some things to do before a Death Eater kills him. Imagine if I had been just another Eater- I would have killed your little boyfriend, given you just enough time to slip away." He rolled his eyes at the prospect. "All a prophecy, Granger. I'm not supposed to kill you. Not this way, not this time, not me. In the higher power that believes in an end to this war, I don't believe I am suppose to murder you, or that Weasley." I didn't buy his act, but I didn't question him any further. I merely allowed him to keep packing. "Count this as my paying you back for saving my life in fifth year against that nasty Centaur attack. If we cross paths again, I will only assume that it is my destiny to kill you, and so I will." He approached me and lifted me up by my hand; soft, a gentleman's touch. I was caught in the moment and walked out into the hall. _

_He thrust my wand into my hands and kicked Ron for good measure. I was going to pull out my wand in a stance, when he flicked his wand and caused both of my arms to feel like lead, dropping my wand to the hard, linoleum floor. "Goodbye, Hermione. I do hope, for your life, that we never see each other again."_

I snapped back to the present time and stood from where I sat. "I will do it, Dumbledore. I will travel back in time to halt Riddle's madness and his 'decontamination' of my kind." He nodded, almost having had expected my compliance.

"You are expected to grab his attention, get to know him better than anyone else, and stop his transformation into Voldemort." I winced at the idea that I couldn't murder him.

There. Easy, simple, short-and-sweet. I feared it was everything but that.


	2. Of Scandals and Encounters

_A/N: Thank you to all of my readers and reviewers! A big chapter because of the long wait! I WILL BE UPDATING MORE FREQUENTLY…my laptop took a shit on me, so I have to wait to get another charger and blah…blah…blah…currently using my brother's to do all of this. Hope you like it, took me long enough.!_

I stared at myself through the ancient framed mirror. My face was the same, my hair was the same, my body was in the same shape…but my eyes- they looked different. Perhaps they were a different shade of brown? Perhaps they were a completely different shape? I shook my head; none of that was true. But it felt different- looking out of my eyes felt so different. I fixed the blue crest with the glorious bird on my chest; it was an emblem of the Ravenclaw house. Dumbledore briefly explained that being sorted into Gryffindor again would make acquaintanceship that much more difficult with Tom Riddle- it seemed he often chose intellect over bravery. How very…_Voldemort_ of him. I snickered at my own pun. "Get a move on." Head Girl Sadie Dowry called out sternly, forcing everyone from their beds and desks. Things were run very differently in Ravenclaw. First, every dorm room was compiled of three girls, not six like I had in my old House. Second, cliques were set up from first year and there wasn't much leeway in between.

A girl I knew for just a few hours told me of my whole life story, unknowingly. Lady Vua smiled nonstop as she babbled on about "all of the things" she knew about me. Including that I lived in Oxford (surprisingly where my mother was from, but I had never been there), my father was a pureblood, and my mum was a half-blood; now, that was laughable. It seemed everyone around me knew me, as if I had been here for the last six years with them. "There's Derman Potter, and his sidekicks Jack Weasley and Catty Longbottom- her brother was always so clumsy and just graduated last year; you remember him, right?" Lady added with a special roll of eyes. I feigned a bored nod and looked down at my plate. "But then again you've been on your little vacation for so long." Lady snickered behind her hand, obviously mocking my time away from Hogwarts. "So much has changed since you've been gone. A year is too much time, Hermione!" Lady smiled more, her long blonde hair falling past her shoulders. Her large, slanted eyes were the only trace of her Asian heritage left; she partially reminded me of Chang Cho.

What was I doing for that year away? "I was…studying with my father. His pureblood experiments." I smiled weakly.

Lady gave me a suspicious look. "Yeah, right, Hermione Granger. Going away on that magnificent sailboat of your dad's is a lot more believable." Lady shook her head at me, chastising me for something I didn't do. I began to be annoyed by her. I wanted to scream in her face that no, I was not sailing on the Caribbean, I was plotting and fighting Death Eaters my whole fifth year- and in the time that I was trying to spend my sixth year being a teen, I was asked by my most favorite mentor to travel back in time and stop a madman. But instead of snapping and blowing my cover, I merely shrugged and dug into breakfast.

Hogwarts was a big school, making it very hard to just run into someone by chance. Some people needed things like Maurder's map (which wouldn't be made for another thirty years), or a set agenda and stalker-like ways to zone in on the prey. "First day of classes. I'm excited." Gloria Cazier sent a friendly smile my way. She was my other roommate, a quiet girl with an overload kind of brain. "Sixth year should be challenging, don't you think, Hermione?" Gloria's innocent doe eyes and braided pig tails gave me some peace- not all girls in Ravenclaw were Parvati-reincarnates.

I nodded, keeping my eyes on Slytherin table. As per usual, the table was full and filled with chatter, just as Gryffindor was. Ravenclaw wasn't so bad, and void of many of the clichés my peers liked to stereotype them as. Headmaster Dippet made no glorious speech like Dumbledore did. I took a quick glance at the bulletin he had posted in each dorm- what kind of headmaster was that? I rolled my eyes and stuffed a spoonful of porridge in my mouth at the thought. Gloria nodded back, quickly averting her eyes. She was an awkward type of girl, too tall to possess elegance. But she was the kind of girl that gave you peace- no drawn-out stories you didn't want to hear, no juicy gossip, and no nuisance behavior whatsoever. When my eyes found the object of my searching, they were instantly glued and stuck. My jaw nearly dropped and my eyes were too close to being bugged out of their sockets. Mrs. Weasley warned me that he was easy on the eyes, but Voldermort's teenaged body was so much more than that. I shook my head to rid of those thoughts.

Lady nudged my side. "Tom Riddle. You know he's sweet on you." Lady giggled mercilessly. "Remember the way he used to open the doors for you and offer to carry your books?" She scoffed. "A shame he stopped in fourth year. Must have been when he decided to drop the good boy act." Lady rolled her eyes, and I suddenly wanted to be in her mind. I needed to know everything about Tom…his behavior, his life, his scent- I shook my head again. What were these new hormones doing to me? I merely needed to wait to hear her recall the whole story. "Since First year, he's been so reclusive, but get him around his little pack and he suddenly has a superhuman confidence boost. It's odd, and you know it." She leaned into me. "Hermione, do you think he _loves_ you? He still looks at you a lot. _I_ think he likes you." She gestured her head in his direction. I followed her direction and stared straight into his cobalt eyes. They were shocking and clear, absolutely void of much of the evilness he would soon be consumed by.

"Were we…were we ever friends?" I asked timidly.

Lady looked at me oddly. "Merlin, no, Hermione! What have you done, bumped your head?" She feigned a smile and patted my forehead unceremoniously. "Just in case you've forgotten since on your little trip to the Naples, Riddle saved you from that Centaur attack in first year. From what I hear, he carried you like a bride all the way back to Hogwarts and right into Madame Sibyl's office. Of course, that was before the restorations in the infirmary." She added for good cause. "Since then, he's been stuck like gillyweed to your pretty little self." She pinched my cheek, causing it to color in irritation. "Onto better things…have you decided whether or not you're going to…you know…_be_ with Hektor Sterling? It's Seventh year, Hermione!"

I wrinkled my nose. Was she perhaps talking about the infamous H. Sterling, the bloody bloke who wrote a whole scripture-worth book on his adventures with "werewolves and vampires" bringing alongside his companion house-elf, who ends up being a complete dim bat; that piece of dung, which was appraised by so many influential writers and critics, gave the elf race a bad name and a worse stigma to bare across their shoulders. I loathed him to the ground, but in actuality, he wasn't a bad lad. But his writing was awful, and in every work I had read about him, he was always still such a hero. Bloody hell, he could be smearing his own feces in Harold Wildwo's grandmother's face, and Wildwo (a very famous novelist of the time) would commend him for his "bravery". "I don't quite know, Lady...he's a tad bit- corny." I lamely supplied. It was an understatement.

Her face morphed into a comical odd stare; it seemed what I said mostly confused her, but this time more so. "That's an odd word, Hermione. 'Corny'- is that from the Westeren states?" Her eyebrows fluttered in utter cunfusion. Was that not a populr word yet? I shrugged and looked back down to my meal. Soon, Ravenclaw students left with the many drifts of the student boy, while I remained behind, picking at my food and watching him, waiting. His eyes caught me when I least expected it; the toast was halfway in my mouth, just resting on my lip. I was aware of thousand flaky breadcrumbs adoring my uniform- that was sincerely alluring.

I wanted to read so much more into his sea blue eyes and his intense glances, but the girlish part of me could not keep looking- I felt the embarassment adorn and alight my cheeks cherry red. Since was I embarassed to look at someone with a little bit of crumbs here and there? Ron had seen me at my worst, the Christmas feast at the Weasley's Burrow in third year where I wore most of what I ate, his being a close eyewitness and just as messy. I liked him, he sort of liked me, we kind of were together...but he was so close with other girls, too. I suppose it wasn't embaraassing around Ron because he was just the same, and something like that never mattered. But to sane people with table manners and proper ettiquete, this was very, very sinful. I couldve sworn to you that I heard chuckle or sigh my name, but I would never know- I wuickly collected my books and such with my head bent low to the groud and scurrie out. I couldn't take knowing that he found humor in my humiliation.

First period-

"What shall I..." Professor Harnnett cleared his throat for the third time during his very small speech, "say about myself? I was born in...ahem, Berlin, Germany before I migrated to Scotland to teach under Hogwart's School of Magic in 1910." The age in him showed through his silvered hair and the skin that drooped low about his chin. Thirty-two years at Hogwarts must have put time and stress unto his heart and mind; there before me stood a man who wasn't too proud or lovely, but thought he would live thirty years longer than he did. No man will love forever, at least not when I'm through with my mission. The class sat in an awkward silence afterward, not really knowing what to say.

He jumped right into notes and spared one more glance to the rows of desks before going back to his chalk board. He used a wand for everything- even when he could have easily reached for a book from a shelf nearby, he chose to levitate it to his desk. He was my Ancient Runes professor, so I suppose I shouldn't have expexted more than a man like him, or another ghost Professor Binns.

Third period-

Second period wasn't enough to talk about, by a longshot. Never had I found Arithmancy to be so boring- I loved that class back in 2009! Professor Comference was witty in rebutes to sassy students, such as Abraxas Malfoy who scoffed at everything he said, but not so confident when he spoke about assingments- he would jumble up his words and trip over his own letters. But now as Dumbledore leaned against an oak master desk, his skin fair and young, his clothes still a mixture of drabby and reanissance, and that everlasting twinkle in his eye; he captivated the classroom, filled with Ravenclaw an Gryffindor.

I glanced over at Derman Potter, who could have been Harry's identical twin from 1942. He lounged against his seat and listened, but occasionaly whispered to Jack Weasley about something- I assumed Qudditch, if their successors were actually just alike. Jack was a more handsome Ron; when I came to terms with tht, I was sick to my stomach- how could I possibly think that Ron's grandfather was sexy? After seeing Arthur Weasley's picture collection atop their copper mantel, I assumed Jack Weasley was always that age- 70! What if I told him he would only live for 48 more years? I didn't know Ron that summer of 2000, or the next year that he morned. But in 2004, I knew him to still greive on bad days and talk about him nonstop. "This is a standard spell; if any student cannot conduct this corrcect, I pledge to retire!" Dumbeldore chuckled and we did so also in a polite response.

I cast the appropriate spell, remembering how useful this was in fifth year when Luna an I were getting attacked in the Ministry of Magic. It was a simple shattering spell, but very useful. "Perfect, Miss Granger. Wonderful to have you back." Dumbledore dipped his head.

As he was walking away, I shot my hnd out to grasp his arm in a certain act of desperation. "Professor Dumbledore..." I began, feeling like the stammering Professor Comference. There was no way he knew I was from the future, but a morsel of me wished he did know- when he was headmaster he knew everything, even things he shouldn't. "You-" I wanted to tell him everything; to watch out for Tom Riddle, to stay away from that damn necklace of a horcruxe in my sixth year, to be extra cautious around any Malfoy he met, to just hurry up and bust Headmaster Arman kissing young girls. But I could not tell him his future. That would mess everything up; he would come to expect things of his future, not act upon his fate. "You live a very long life." It was all I could come up with, my voice choking.

His eyebrows knitted together for a second before he came back to a calm expression. "Knowing my future is as dangerous as you knowing someone else's past. Things change, Miss Granger. In one life, I suppose I do live a very long time." He inclined his head in a polite departure. I was struck dumb at what he said. But I understand part of it- telling somebody their future was as bad as reliving someone else's past- the consequences were ghastly.

Fourth period-

My last period of the day ended in Potions, where Professor Slughorn was chipper and charming, he being the youngest teacher in his late twenties. This was the second class I had with Slytherin, which was a godsend. In my original fifth year, I shared almost every class with their lot. I eyed Tom, who sat in a group table with Abraxas Malfoy and Nedle Nott. A girl, whom was companions with Lady, named Tisha Thompson sat with them, staring up at Abraxas every few seconds to only glance back down at her blank paper. We were supposed to be taking notes from our books while Professor Slughorn sat at his desk, engrossed in the Daily Prophet. He gave a whirlwhind performance when we were seated, animatedly greeting us and jumped into a few far-fetched stories. They were ludicrous, and some even unscrupulous, but they made even someone like Tom Riddle laugh. That had to matter for something.

Lunch was spent the same way as breakfast; Lady clued me in on all of the new happenings, made some crude remarks about a few boys I recognized as my actual classmates' ancestors, and became determined to ignore a poor boy who persistently requested to sit with her in all of her classes and teatime. "Class is dismissed early today, lads and gals. For all of your prickly and anal teachers, do your homework. Arrive prepared tomorrow to be placed with partners and concoct your very first potion of the year." With a theatrical clap of his hands, we began filing out of the classroom and into the halls.

"Slughorn may be Slytherin, but he's one fun brute." Lady chuckled and waved me off as she joined some of her friends at the entrance of the dungeon hallway. I waved back in reply, but kept a steady pace of collecting my things. It was a nice twist, having Tom Riddle on my side to begin with. I wondered how Dumbledore did that- there couldn't have been a proxy for me since First year, and I doubted Tom was dense enough to be put under some long-term Imperious curse. So what was it? Everyone knew me, and by my own name! I had the same characteristics and the same voice. A different background, but no less the same last name.

"Her-…Ms. Granger?" I looked up at the mention of the very thing I was thinking about. Instead of Slughorn's face, I was bombarded by Tom's crystal clear complexion and captivating blue eyes. His body was thicker and his shoulders were broader than any of his pictures showed. I closed my eyes momentarily as his scent drifted across my nose; early nineteen forties cologne was the very masculine smell I adored, and he wore it well. Hogwarts' uniform was nicer than in my time; the girls' skirts were a different pattern of tweed, thicker for winter and charmed thinner for the warmer seasons. Boys' knit Oxfords were of finer craft, and more detail into the crest of each House.

I halted my staring and cleared my throat. "Yes?" My average brown eyes clashed against his much nicer ones- pale blue as he quirked his lips in a nervous sort of way.

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He repeated those motions for a few seconds. "I wanted to know how your summer and year away went. You must be behind in your studies." That was easy enough conversation. It was truly hard to hate this boy- considering how kind he had been to me in the "past". He had a future that was full of dark and sinister things, but why dwell on what has not happened yet…technically?

I considered smarting him off, reassuring myself that I was as intelligent in this life as I was in the next. "I am.' I supplied quickly. "But I will do just fine. I studied enough during my break. Knowledge is power."

He nodded. "And so is oblivion. That is what most fallible humans fall for." He replied, resting his hand close to mine on the desk. I almost forgot how huge of a prick he was. These pretty boy antics were something else, because for a second I almost believed he saw me as an equal. But a person like Voldemort, who stood before me, never saw anyone on their own level- always beneath!

"A different kind of power." I smiled shyly, feigning a flutter of eyelashes and raise of lips; he was handsome when he spoke like this- all-knowing and intelligently philosophical. Ron never spoke like this…and if Harry ever did, I would send him straight to St Mungos. "Mr. Riddle,' I shared his polite approach, "would you be so kind as to tutor me?" I kept my request light and airy. That would be the perfect way to get close to him.

Before I knew it, he had my hand in his and brought it to his lips. "You know my name. Call me by it." The gentle shy-boy was gone, replaced with a demanding man whom owned impressive arms and shoulders. "Please." The way his lips pursed together in that one syllable word made my knees wobbly. Why couldn't I find a man like this in my own time, someone other than the man named Tom Riddle?

"T-Tom." I spluttered out, my cheeks flaming. Ho9w would Voldemort act if he knew he was flirting with a mud blood in his teens, who was disguised as a half-blood? "Would you fancy addressing me by first name then?"

He smirked, that stealthy way he stole the ground from beneath me. "What is it again? Helen, Harriet, Honey…" He kept my hand in his and tapped his chin with a free finger. My eyes widened and in a gesture that Harry and Ron were too used to when they teased me, I punched his shoulder in a motion I thought was strong. It only made him laugh in my face, which caused me to fluster uncontrollably. "Oh, right, Hermione." He gave in at last, letting my hand drop unceremoniously. "Stay away from Sterling; I mean it." He had a warning in his tone. I hated Sterling, but I would definitely have to show him attention now.

You can't have a pre-Voldemort on your hands and obey him. That would be defeating the purpose of the whole mission.

_A/N: Review, people of the Harry Potter/Twilight cyberworld (because who writes anything else other than that on this site?). Your undying support is IMMENSELY appreciated._


	3. Our History

"Hermione," Tom growled, his eyes unforgiving and stern, "pay attention, or you will never understand this." He fingered the edge of the History book page 1120, his pools of maghony silver turning a tinge of scarlet; being around Tom so much gave me a good feeling of ease, but I was still weary, and if I admitted it to myself, afraid. Those eyes...who could have the most unqiue shade of metallic eyes, that turned to a slight tinge of red? Only Tom Riddle, the man who observed and retained everything- he payed close attentioned and always had a fine-tuned way of responding. Just like now, when I shut my book and stubbornly drew my hair back. If only he knew that I was frustrated by the way he stared at me when he assumed I wasn't paying attention, not because I didn't get what he was trying to revise. Okay, and I wasn't so 'quick' about this history.

It was NOT because I didn't know my muggle and wizardry history, but because I was so afriad of letting something from the future slip. Being a showoff and know-it-all infront of a year that wasn't even my own was useless, and also absolutely not worth it; I wasn't ready to risk that sort of thing happening. So I quietly mulled over my dellima as the boy across from me sneered alittle more. "Not sure what you look so snide for." I retorted angrily. I admit, snapping at your 'voluntary' tutor isn't a very good -citezenship thing to do, but there was only so much of an arse a girl could take.

"You only keep proving how average your capabilities are. And this," he leaned towards me and pointed to his face, "is not snide. It is the face of a man whose patience is wearing thin." And with that, he sat back in the old library wooden chairs, making a soft creaking noise. There was no smirk, or calculating sneer to it, either. Just his piercing eyes and the slight flush of his high cheeks. My eyes flicked nervously from the thin line of his mouth to the clenching of his fist on the table, his other probably doing the same under the table. I noticed these little ticks about him, because his eyes and face almost never gave way to emotion until he was as close to the brink of delirium as Ron was in a game of chess that he wasn't winning at.

He was calling me incapable; well, it sure was a step up from being called a Mudblood. "Then I apologize for wasting your precious," I added great emphasis as I stood and collected my materials in my bag, "time." And I lifted my chin proudly, refusing to acknowledge the sting his words left me. They implemented their seed into my skin, causing the outtermost epithelial tissue to crawl uncermoniosly. I had been through worse, and wouldn't dare show him how crushed I was; he was the first bright wizard to speak to me as a human being, a brilliant individual on my own level- just for him to suddenly decide that I was infact not capable of being on his level? It was a low blow, and not a hit I expected to receive. He seemed to taken and enthralled by me! How could he just be like that to me- Hermione Granger, of whom he saved in first year? Perhaps Lady and Gloria were wrong in their assumption that he had a heart at all. "Thank you for the lovely time. I'm sure Slughorn will award Slytherin for your ultimate sacrifice!" I stomped away, but I only took a step before he yanked my forearm, causing me to richoe back and bump into him.

"I don't play cat and mouse, Hermione. You walk away, and I will not need to spend my precious time indeed on attempting to help a girl who refuses to be taught. I promise, you will not find another who will dedicate so much without an...incentive." He gestured along my body with his eyes. I suddenly wanted to knock him off of his feet and trample over his tall body. He was basically calling me a whore, and himself a saint!

"You're full of shite, Tom Riddle! Honestly, you think you're so bloody brilliant, and everyone else is beneathe you!" I uncharacteristically raised my voice in the back portion of the library; that wouldn't stop the neo-Madame Pince (Mrs. Deghaive) from barging over and kicking us out. "Well, you're wrong! I am damn sure to Merlin that nothing, lest the scum beneathe my shoe, is actually at your level." I lowered my voice, half reason because I decided getting exiled from the library would do me no good, and half because I wanted to intensify the moment. "And you're just pathetic. Using a human being to push down because of your awful day, or awful life. I won't be utilized to lift your ego!" I snatched my arm from his grasp and walked off, effectively holding my head high and not awkwardly dropping anything on my way out. Mrs. Deghaive gave me an odd look as I left, but I ignored it.

There were a lot of odd looks people gave me at Hogwarts; most I ignored, and some I just had to face head-on.

Second Period-

History of Magic was difficult. Arthimancy- I could do numbers. Ancient Runes- I could do textiles and scrolls. Potions and Herbology- I could do chemicals and green things. Charms and Transfiguration were simple and impasse; so why History of Magic was difficult for me was beyond my imagination. Even DADA was fun enough. "Are you quite alright?" Gloria Cazier whispered to me, her hand gently shaking my shoulder.

"Yeah." I nodded and offed her softly. "I'm fine." I shrugged her off and flicked my eyes back to Professor Trini, who was calling out pages for homework.

"Page 255 to page 275; I want read and summarized on one foot of parchment. If this homework is not finished, you will not understand your class assignment on friday. Dismissed." Trini was a strict woman who refused to leave her idle look of pure boredom. When I passed her desk to leave, I almost expected her to ask me to stay after class. But she didn't, because she didn't care, and let me walk right on by.

"Are you going to teatime?" Gloria asked softly, her eyes still guarded.

I turned to her. "I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier, Gloria. I only have a lot on my mind." She smiled and nodded, almost as if she hadn't ever expected an apology. "But I have to go to the library. Some work to do." I shrugged, not daring to spill that I ha been taking lessons from Voldemort and was presently just tutoring myslef. She was a quiet girl with no gossip queen tendancies, but I could not trust anyone of this time. And we parted ways, she going towards the Great Hall and I towards the fourth floor. Had she been Lady, she might've wanted to follow and question everything, but Gloria was different in the way of submission- a passiveness that was intouchable. I passed Derman Potter and Jack Weasley on my way, and they stopped me for polite conversation.

"'Ello, Hermione!" Jack was loud in the mellow hallway. "How've you been, good chap?" He smiled boyishly and patted me on my head, which came to his shoulder. Jack was a more Irish than English Ron, but it was a Weasley that I could deal with; he wasn't sexually attractive nor a frustrating nitwit. And Derman...well, he was something else.

"Leave her alone." Derman cooed, and hugged me to the side of his body. "She sure doesn't look like a bloke to me." He winked, sending a blush to my cheeks. He was a lot smoother than Harry ever was...but he was indefinetly in love with Isabella Wright, a mublood from the Naples. She had a very small accent, and was as taken with the green-eyed boy as he was with her. "Are you going to lunch?" His eyes were innocent and void of all of the worry Harry's were always filled with. I shook my head both physically and mentally. I needed to stop thinking about Harry and Ron...they were distracting me from my mission.

"Why bloody not? It's food. What's more important than that?" Jack quirked an eyebrow at me. "Books, eh?" He suggested with a look that said he already knew.

I shrugged. "Homework. But I'll see you guys next period." I gave each of them a hug farewell and was off once more.

I missed my two best friends.

Library-

I walked into my haven and was hit by the scents of the Promise Land...old parchment, leather-spines, the collected dust on the ends of the high shelves that not even magic could wash away. It was calming to be here, because this was one aspect of Hogwarts that did not change- it could NOT change, for my sanity alone. The Restricted Section still held books I wished to read and devour, our librarian was still a scowling beast, and wizardry chess champions still played here thursday night and weekend mornings. It was refreshing, really. I passed a couple, Donna Brocklehurst and Isaac MacMillian- should I tell them they end up marrying? Seamus Finnigan's twin aunts were both Ravenclaw, Mary and Ira, and they were the sweetest redheads I ever did lay eyes on; not tarty at all like their great-great nephew. Dumbedore breifed me on a few family histories before I left...but nothing could have reassured me I would fit in, or get along. I figured they could smell the Twenty-first century on me...but alas, they did not.

Isaac and Donna waved at me kindly before going back to their work. As far as I remembered, they were Ernie's grandparents. "Merlin..." I muttered to myself when I realized how unusually full this section of the library was. So I went to the far back and sat my stuff down. As soon as I brought my book and parchment out, I began to work. I left little thought to what Tom was doing...was he waiting for me outside of Professor Trini's classroom, like he always did before a study session in the library? No, of course not! He quit, so why would he do something like that? He wouldn't!

I was halfway done with my parchment before I felt it- I ceased writing for a few seconds, just to see if I could detect any noise of an intruder. That sensation of being survielanced; it was eery to feel like that, but I suddenly reminded myself that there were a lot of people there that day. So I shrugged it off and kept going.

I was tying up loose ends of my essay and coming to an end when my quill broke beneathe my steel-like grip. That didn't happen often to me, but those eyes that bore into my back just set me on the very edge of my nerve! My hair angrily flew as I whipped my head around. Nothing. I wiped a hand over my face and irritadedly pulled my hair up into a bun. My feet moved to their own accord as they found the middle of the library, Mrs. Deghaive's desk. She was absent. Perhaps she had gone to the loo? I went into the Student Awareness board where kids were swrming just minutes before, but no one was there. I would have never ventured from my spot, or even really noticed this oddity, had I not needed another quill for my work. My heart began to race, and all I could think about was running far, and running fast.

How could something like that happen? I snatched a quill from a stock of them on the otherwise bare desk and went back to my spot. This was eery; I wasn't scared, no. Being stuck in a matress spring box under the bed of a deatheater who dipped the mattress low with his fat ass, and had a woman come to his room for entertainment was scary. This was just a suddenly empty library. This was not Knockturn Alley. I gasped loudly when a cold hand grasped my shoulder tightly. Who had I expected it was? A vampire or goon from Sterling's stories? A ghost extracting revenge on a seventh year virgin? No, this was scarier.

It was Voldemort. Not Tom, but Voldemort, with his tasseled hair coming in odd angles and his eyes- red as the color of sin. "What are you-" I exclaimed, but the grip was already released and he sat across from me. Why did he feel the need to touch me? It was always my shoulder, or my arm, or my face! He needed to stop that!

"Chapter Three, I presume." He sat, his voice composed but not his appearance. As he snatched his book from a bag I didn't see, I noticed the array of scars and scratches along his knuckles. A sick part of me wanted to kiss them away, but I knew it was wrong of me to want that...to even think of that. He began to read a highlight to a side page when I snapped my book closed, and I swore I saw his eye twitch. He looked at me from beneathe his long lashes, and I felt my heart stop under his pensive gaze. "Open your book." He instructed severely, to which I completely ignored. "Open your book." He said again, the words coming tensed from his mouth. The syallables were gritted out like nails shot out of a gun.

I leaned forward just the tiniest bit and growled, "No." And in the few minutes that I believed I had everything figured out, he had me by my hair and lifted me from my seat. For the primary few seconds, it sickly excited me- but then it hurt me. I screamed and kicked and thrashed my hands about, trying my hardest to remove his hurtful hands from my body. "Tom, stop!" I yelled, but he did not hear me, or if he did, he just didn't listen. He led us to a bookshelf and shoved my face to it. By that time, tears were pouring down my face- traitorous tears that escaped without my consent.

"You will respect me. You will honor and adhere to my requests. And if all else shall fail me," he jerked my head to the side and rubbed his nose against the side of my jaw, "you will fear me, Hermione Granger." His mouth innocently ventured down my chin and neck, and I shuddered. Why was my body responding to him? Why did my body enjoy his ministrations? I jerked and screamed bloody murder as the shots of pain coursed through my body when he bared his teeth and bit down on my neck. I squirmed roughly when he pinned my hands infront of me to the wall with merely one of his and used to other to wrap around my stomach. I wasn't sure what that hand had to do with confining me, but it had to be removed! "I am Lord Voldemort." Tom murmured against my ear, his tongue sluethly poking out to tease the lob softly. "Call out to me." He ordered softly. When I shook my head, he yanked my head back and growled out, "Call to me,".

"Lord-...Lord Voldemort." I moaned, the feeling his hands in my hair doing more to me than it should have dangerously errotic.

"Such a good girl." He murmured against my ear. I felt the tent in his trousers slide against my backside. I shuddered when one of his hands lifted my skirt and stiffened when his ministrations turned to grinding. I had to admit his hands were soft, and the one around my stomach gave me a sick sense of protectiveness.

Was he going to rape me? Why was he whispering sweet things in my ear and trying to hold me tenderly? "Tom, please-" I knew I was begging, pleading him not to. I knew nine out of ten pleading cases never worked, but I had to do something. I couldn't just stand there and let myself get taken! But there was no way in bloody hell my legs were moving. He was close...his body parts and such were too close.

"Shhh, my baby." He cooed in my ear. "I would never hurt you. I just need to feel your body against mine." And his hand that was around my navel traveled the length of my arm and our fingers entwined. My hand dropped to my side. "With your clothes on. I know of your virtue." And with that, my hand wrapped around the back of his neck and pulled him closer. The bubble-like heat in my lower stomach frightened me; I wasn't so sure what was happening. It was new and exciting, but foreboding and dangerous all at the same time. His mouth touched down on my shoulder, erupting goose bumps along my body; I sighed and leaned my head back. His free hand moved my hair from my neck, then went down to my leg, traveled up my thigh and squeezed soflty, but firm.

"Tom." I moaned out loud, causing his grinding to become hard jerks, his breath coming in pants against my neck. Before I knew it, he had turned me around and slammed our bodies against the bookshelf.

"You wish to call out in your ecstasy a filthy muggle name? Instead of a powerful, befitting name of magic, you settle for a mere human brand." He kissed along my jaw and brought one of my knees to his hip. "You are the most beautiful creature I have ever held." He promised, and if I had been in a good state, I would have seen through his lies- which they surely were! No man had ever told me that before; well, no man had ever been this close to me before, either. His eyes were still red, but if you can imagine such a thing, there was a full atmosphere of comfort and ease inside of those eyes- there was a spell of love around me, and I almost felt as I were surrounded by a blanket of...love? I shook my head at the thought. Love was no where near this portion of the library where we just...dry-humped.

"I want you to wear this at all times. You are a friend of the Dark Lord, and thus untouchable." He went to wrap it around my neck, but I shook my head fiercely and pushed it away. "Baby, it doesn't mean that you are a follower of the Dark Lord, but that you have the protection...of Voldemort." And when he said this, a triumphant smirk covered his face. I hated when he spoke in third person about himself. Since when did he call me baby? I wasn't a baby, and even if there was a chance someone had the piece of mind to call me a pet name, it would not be _baby_.

He kissed my mouth, his tongue sneaking in through my open crevice. Our tongues danced in a battle of power, and I enjoyed every minute of it. His snogging was by far, mind-blowing. Not that I had a lot to compare to. I was so enthralled that I failed to notice his slueth hands tie it around my slender neck, or the soft golden glow it emitted.


	4. Raise Your Defenses

"History has a tendancy to repeat itself." Professor Harvely spoke, his calming voice putting the classroom in a trance. "Your History of Magic professor will have the same theory. Genocide, corrupt leadership, greed for power- those are strong components. Within all of us, there is a part that belongs to one of those three. Whether you support a particular genocide, or are a victim ; 'tis where you belong. Either you crave power, or you're one of the equalizers to try to balance it all." He stopped by my desk, which i shared with Tom. "You are corrupted, or you are fixing the catastrophe of the corrupted." Harvely's fingers dragged across the desk as he walked by. I visibly shivered and Tom instinctively pulled me to him, assuming I was shivering from the chill in the room.

Nott raised his hand and was called on immediately. "What has this got to do with dark hexes? Aren't we supposed to be learning defenses, not why mental blokes run around killing everyone?" A few kids snickered.

Harvely looked like he was suppressing an eyeroll. "You can learn any defense charm or counter-hex in your other courses. Here, I will teach you why and how they were made. When you are infromed of the origin, defending yourself will come too easy, ." Harvely dismissed the athletic golden boy, just like that. I had been spending an awful lot of time with Tom ever since the library incident, and my subconsious didn't think it was healthy. I could not help it, his personality was addictive. Tom held my elbow as we exited class. I noticed

that Professor Harvely never spoke to me when I was in the presence of Tom, and could possibly blame him? He probably expected a cackling, grumpy Slytherin girl to be with him.

"Would you care to accompany me to the Astronomy Tower tonight? If you're not feeling well, I can always invite Lucia Black instead." He teased, a smug smile gracing his pale lips. I playfully yanked my arm from his grasp and ran towards the closest of trees.

"Ha!" I soffed dramatically. "I am the only one who can truly handle you! All Lucia can do is drool over you. If you are not feeling well, Sterling can surely find it in his busy schedule to accompany -Tom! " I squealed and ran as he lurched towards me. My embarrassing snort-giggles escaped my lips without my consent, but the flush of his glorious cheek structure and the irreplaceable, actual smile on his face was enough to make me just want to live in the moment. "What? Hektor said he was fine with sharing me." I feinged a nonchalant shrug. Ha, like i would ever give that snob the time of day, let alone share my time with him! I was bordering a tree in between us.

Suddenly, the large oak tree beneath my fingertips split itself. It was as if a lightning bolt struck it- but there was no storm, just a sunny sky with few clouds. It splintered and widened to reveal the other side- no Tom. Shit! Did I somehow muddy up the future? I should have known I couldn't do this! The only experience with time travel I ever had was a Time Turner in third year. Seriously, why did Dumbledore trust in me so gallantly? I was nothing! My body was harshly tackled, but my fall was cushioned by two firm forearms supporting the back of my head. Tom's wicked smile irked me for the first time in a long time. And his eyes...they were a tinge of scarlet red.

"So easily distracted." He teased. His lips were so close to mine. I couldn't think, I couldn't move; his light breath smelled like spearemint and ginger. We hadn't kissed in two months, since the library. He was never so impulsive, I was never so close to him. "Very distracted." He murmured and chuckled, knowing the pull he had on me. "I do not share. What is mine, is only mine. You were since the first time i saw you."

"Your eyes are scarlet." I blurted. I wanted soul-armoring silver, not this bloodshed red! "And they frighten me." I admitted. It was one of the few things I was honest to Tom about. The tally of lies on my part were building and growing like wildfire; the more he wanted to know about me, the more I would be forced to fib. He dropped his head, his scalp laying flat against my pulsating Jugular. I felt his eyes on my chest and fought not to cover myself with my arms. it wasnt like he could truely oggle anything with my prim Oxford properly buttoned up! And for some fairly odd reason, i actually trusted Tom not to be attempting to make some move.

"They are eyes of a monster. And if you have not yet noticed, that is truely what I am." And he looked up at me with eyes smouldering and red hot like an oven. "I know what the other girls say to you." No, you don't! "Especially that Asian girl. I hate her with a passion greater than the rest. With that noted, I know that she shares an equivalent level of hatred." I looked at him oddly; why was he telling me all of this? Why now? "This," he pulled out a hand from under me and fingered the Onyx necklace he put on me forcefully, "is my only piece of mind. It allows me the knowledge that you are safe and well." And with a flick of his wrist, the stone was tossed back to my chest harshly. He stood, looking quite angry. "Get up." He ordered briskly.

I contemplated refusing but before I even processed the urge of rebellion, he yanked me up by my arm. "Tom, you're hurting me." My eyebrows drew together. What was he playing at? One moment, he's gallant boyfriend material. The next he's acting like a Malfoy! I watched his face closely to gage his sort of reaction.

There was none, just a simple toss of hair as a breeze it in his face. Huffing indignantly, I stomped away. I made it all the way to my dorms before Lady spotted me. "Mione!" She called, and my heart felt a pang of loss. Where were the two boys whom used to call me that? Somewhere else, in another time obviously. But emotionally. they seemed to be moving further and further away from me. My mind was mostly forgetting the small details about them, perhaps to porotect myself from missing them too much. I turned around, hoping to Merlin that my heart wasn"t painted all over my face. "Rouge Rambelihn is hosting the Ghoulish Gam tommrow eve. Will you be there?" I looked at her oddly, none of that sentence made the least bit sense!

"Rouge Ramebelihn?" I quirked an eyebrow.

"Yes." She drew out slowly, as if speaking to a child. "The Ghost of Ravenclaw, Hermione. How could you forget?" Lady made a sour face. "But anyway, since you seem to have forgotten everything, Rouge Ramebelihn celebrates Halloween with what he and his ghost friends call Ghouslih Gam- mysterious word for party." She rolled her eyes. "The Raven Sisterhood is attending, for what reason i wouldn't know." And then, a spiteful look overtook her eyes. "So that means we must be in attendance also."

"Lady, do you know what goes on at Ghost parties? Nothing." I emphasized the last word. "I don"t believe it's your scene."

Lady puted, but tossed herself on a long couch. "Yes, I do suppose you're right. But why would the Siserhood be going? If it's as off as you say, why waste your evening of celebration?"

"Perhaps they have an agenda of sorts; one can never know." I shrugged, and left her with that riddle to solve.

Speaking of Riddles. There was a note left on my bed, and judging by the expensive parchment it was a marriage proposal sent straight from the Ministry (yes, i had seen one before, but most definetly not addressed to me) or it was Tom. I had recived his little notes on more than one occasion; some were sweet thoughts and compliments, some were heartfelt poems of his thoughts, and sme were nasty, mean letters that made me almost cry. I had a feeling this was oe of those notes. So I brushed my hair, pulled it back, and changed for sleep. When I arrived back to my bed, it was still there. Bugger, I needed to open it.


	5. How Plans Change

**You, Hermione Granger, are a perplexing creature. I have known you, and my eyes have followed you closely the last six years. I was a Second year when you first scuttled in with the First year crowd of tiny children; you were doe-eyed and beautiful, even to me at twelve years old. For some unfathomabe reason, you have decided to finally acknowledge my existence among our pupils. For that, I am forever grateful. We only share one class together, but I treasure that time. I am not asking you to forgive me for my angered actions or foul words, but I do ask that you give me another chance. I want to explain myself, throughly. Tete au tete is far greater than written correspondenc, would you not agree?**

**Please meet me at the Astronomy tower tonight at eleven o clock. If you do not arrive, I will understand that you no longer wish to have anything futher to do with me. And at such a moment, I will comply with your wishes and gracefully bow out of your concious- out of your life.**

**With the utmost love,  
Tom M. Riddle**

There was only one thing I took from that letter. He signed it "Tom M. Riddle", not the dreadful _Voldemort _I was usually graced with. Was he truly trying to win my heart, or was this an evil plot to sabotage all of my plans from the Twenty-First century? I wasn't so sure, as I nibbled at my lip and looked out of the window. What was wrong with me? This letter (both well-written and what I believed to be sincere) was not supposed to pull at my heartstrings like it did. I was way too involved, way too in love with this character. I knew this man was not true- he couldn't be. But that fact did not stop me from sneaking out of my dormitory and ascending every staircase to get to the Seventh Floor. And when I passed the hallway that led to Gryffindor Dorm, I paused ever so slightly. Now I was a Ravenclaw, whom was not born for another nearly seventy years. And yet I was here, thanks to timetravel. And for some odd reason, everyone knew from six years back. Snapping out of my thoughts, I raced towards the route to the highest tower, etched in my mind from late night excursions with Harry and Ron.

I raced up the stone steps to the door and paused, catching my breath. I knew what I was doing, here way past curfew. I was beginning a dangerous game that I was not fully equipped to finish. But I was going to try and wade my way through these uncharted waters. My shaking fingers grasped the doorknob and turned it slowly, as if going to fast would break the solid door altogether. This situation was precautious, why wouldn't I be? I peeked my head out, and then pulled my whole body through the door. There he was, standing tense and erect, seeming to not even realize someone had come through the door. The railing at the front of the tower was infront of him, one hand resting on it and the other hand curtly put in his pocket. I wore smooth tennis shoes that glided along the floor to behind him. I cleared my throat, not wanting to approach him any closer. "I was afraid you would not come to me."

Liar. He _knew_ I would come crawling to him. If only this mission was not standing in my way of just destroying him! "I had to." I rasped out, not knowing exactly why my voice seeemd to leave me. He did make me nervous- sometimes sexually, sometimes frightfully.

Tom didn't turn around. He kept glancing out into the high view of Scotland. You could see almost everything from the tower. Everything, lest the future. "I was both polite and understanding in my letter. This is not a nonconsensual meeting, and I apologize if you thought it was." His voice hardened, all vulnerabilty gone from his posture. I took a few more steps, so that I could see the intricate stitch of his tweed sweater. _Tweed_. _Ha_, if these people only knew that that sort of design would go out of high fashion!

I wanted to hug, to bring back softie Voldie that I could spin around my finger. This strong, agile person was very difficult to handle. "I didn't mean it like that. I meant that I... that I had to come see you. I missed you." My voice still had a notch of fright to it; fright of what, I shall never know. It wasn't all a lie. I did enjoy his company, and I would start to miss his quick wit and large terrain of intelligence. But I wasn't a sickly in love girl, like he thought I was. "I forgive you, because none of us are near perfect." I said with a little more confidence; was I forgiving the Voldemort of my time? Not just this boy who was pouring his heart out to me for yelling a little. The killer, the murder. The monstor, not that man. I suppose I forgave them both.

He spun around, perhaps taken aback by such a voluntary response from me. "You say what you truly mean, Hermione?" There was a hint of skepticism in his colbat eyes; had I forgiven way too easily to his keen eye? But I nodded, not allowing my mind to dwell on my actions. I was actually forgiving, not just say it to appease the boy of my mission. Tom straightened up and ran a hand through his dishelved hair. I loved those brown locks. I really could sit and play with them all day long. "I want to explain my... possessive behavior." He cleared his throat, and I took a defensive stance with my hip cocked slightly to one side and arms folded- challenging him to talk his way out of this one. "My father...he- he is no prime example of tenderness. And my mother has no emotionality left within her; though I was told she was a raging butterfly of life when she was younger in years. I have no brothers, no sisters." And he looked at me, as if he knew that I didn't have any either. "I want to treat you right, always. And now that you have given me the chance to be in close proximity...there are too many scattered emotions to think correctly." I was still stuck on the explanation of his parents. He spoke about them in present tense; _why_?

"Your mum and dad... where are they _now_?" I inquired tenderly. From the timeline I knew, he killed his father, and his mother died when he was born, leaving only a necklace to him.

He chuckled and sent me an odd look. "Well, Riddle Manor is in Wiltshire. But my mother spends her Autumns in Vienna with her parents." I kept a smooth poker face on; what was his deal? I got that I was a crush he was constantly trying to impress, but why create a whole facade "happy home" story for me? I didn't deserve the fat lie. The Riddles didn't have a Manor, just a creaky old shack that Tom would later destroy the keeper of. "My parents have written to me. For the first time in my Hogwart's school days, they have requested me to spend Christmas with them." I raised an eyebrow, of which he took to be concern. It was meant to be disbelief, for him and his now _growing_ obnoxious story. "Yes, I know, sane families want their children to be home for the holidays. But my parents aren't..." Tom licked his lips in a sort of habit, turning them a plump red, "healthy." _And neither are you, Tom! _I wanted to scream at him, or shoot a certain truth serum down his throat. "Please understand that I am well aware that they are no excuse for me. My actions stand alone; but when you talk about Sterling-"His eyes turned a shade darker, "I suddenly cannot control myself. I am too frightened that I may one day lose you to him. That pathetic piece of dung!" He reminded me of Draco Malfoy, really. Always putting other people (mostly enemies) to blame before and after himself.

"In accordance to my forgiveness, I wish you to stay away from Hektor; he deserves none of the foul events that you wish to befall him." And before Tom was able to object, I held my hand up to silence him. A rumble resounded from his chest, and I would never forget the sound. "Never shall you treat me so ill, or regard me with a condescending tone."

"Never." He nodded in agreence.

"I am a witch, deserving of an honest man." I steadily regarded him, eyeing up his stance. "I want that to be you." I would let the plot thicken.

Tom stepped forward, his arms wrapping around my body in a way that was so intimate, I blushed. "I will be. No other will have a chance; you sealed that deal the moment you stepped foot into the tower." He murmured. "May I kiss you?" Our gazes locked, so intense that I had to blink twice before nodding. His mouth was so energetic, and always so happy. I wished that his attitude reflected his kiss; a man of jubilance and dominance, with just the right ouch of sexy.

What was I doing to myself? Allowing him to kiss me so much? Allowing him to think that I wanted him to make an honest woman of me? I was playing a dangerous game of trickery with this man, and I didn't see our situation lessening anytime soon.

Novemberfest-

Luckily October was already gone and November flew by between classes, and lazy weekends spent by his side. I was never allowed to stray for long; he would simply find me and tag along to what I was doing. I was a little surprised that my birthday came and left with no one to pay attention; but that day I feigned sickness from the outside world (a dreary sunday, it was). And today it was the grand feast of the Harvest Day, the thirtieth of the month. My cousins from the States called it Thanksgiving, but I saw no one reason for them to celebrate such an event. But that was politics... nothing I wanted to think about when there was an extraoridnary display of food infront of me. "Look, that's my new boyfriend!" Lady exclaimed, a dark shade of pink tainting her angular face. "Isaac Corner, Seventh year." She gushed, as if he being one year older made their relationship more important than it really was. I rolled my eyes. Isaac was a Slytherin, opposite of his great grandson, Michael Corner (from Ravencalw). I idly wondered if Lady did end up marrying Isaac and made Micheal's grandfather, Michael Corner I. My fellow classmate was the third generation to inherit the name. "An attractive lad, yes?" Her hopeful eyes swimmed with a hazy look.

"Come off it." Bridgette Concord huffed. "Isaac is Slytherin, Lady." She shrugged, her braided blonde hair swiping her small back as she spoke erratcially. "We don't know that first thing about them. And the rumors we have heard are nothing good! Just look at what the bloke Salazar Slytherin stood for! Nothing but coniving antics and crude humor. Why not a Ravenclaw lad? They're not so bad. Gryffindor? Even if some of them are foolish brutes." I shook my head angrily, wanting to rip off her gawdy lace necklace. Gryffindor was _my_ house, _I_ was one of those foolish brutes she was talking about! She had no right; just because no one of _any_ house had enough pity to ask her out! I could make an automatic bet that if the slag had been asked by any Slytherin house member, she would take the offer, hands down!

Lady upturned her nose and looked away from her fellow Ravenclaw. "Some people are incapable of _just_ being happy that someone else is happy." And that was as far as she would go to insult anyone.

But that was true, about a lot of people.

"He's not so bad, Lady. Isaac is an... exceptional boy." I quipped lowly. I didn't much favor the guy, mainly because he knew not one lick of good literarture and lacked the gene of common sense. But in that perspective, Lady and he were made for each other. "I believe I am not feeling well. Do tell me what I miss?" I whispered, and after her hesitant nod, I crept out of teh hall (as to be unnoticed0 and hurried down the second corridor to meet at Tom's designated spot. The festive aura would distract everyone from our less than significant disappearances; well, I for one wouldn't be missed. He would be, though. By all of his minions and goons!

Halfway there, a pair of lightly tanned arms shot out and grabbed me, pulling me in the cover of a shining knight. I gasped in shock and was ready to bite down on the hand that held my mouth when Tom spun me about to face him. An easy smile carressed my lips when his face came into view. Was he more gorgeous now than the night before? Was it possible for a person to grow more handsome overnight? I shook my head; holding the think material of his shirt, I tiptoed to uo kiss him, and he greedily replied. When we broke apart for breath, he winked down at me. I was in muggle jeans and a sweater, but he was in a nice suit (like all Slytherins wore in their _casual_ drab). I wondered where he acquired such a suit, seeing as how he was plucked from an orphanage by Dumbledore when he was eleven. "I was on my way to collect you; I wanted you with me already." He slid an arm around my waist and walked us along the corridor at a casual pace, not afraid to be spotted by a passing teacher nor a wandering student. I rolled my eyes, but liked the rush that went to my toes when he spoke like that. Ron _never_ talked like that to me.

Ron. Ugh, I decided to shut him off of my memory for now. He only ever stopped me from doing what I had to do. I would not allow my future boyfriend (or actual present-time one) to ruin the situation I had set up meticulously. "So where are you taking me?" I wondered aloud, though I knew he wouldn't tell me until we were there. I had long gotten lost in the maze that was Hogwarts, though I was quite sure we were still on the first floor. We stopped by doubledoors, of which Tom tapped his wand to three times and recited an incantation, so low that it was impossible to pick up. I was weary to step inside, but I needed to know this special, unkown room of his. I reminded myself that this was a mission, not the time to start scaring myself. "Oh my." I uttered as he ushered me in and shut the doors sternly. Along the walls, there were black drapes, with stenciled skulls and large serpents running threw them. These objects moved on the drape, which was a work of magic I had never seen before! The high vaulted ceiling made the room under seem massive with air and space.

"This is my lair of darkness." And when he said "darkness", i felt a chill run down my tiny spine. My fingers shook as i folded them before me; holy Merlin! As I followed him to a large throne at the back of the room (which could be considerd front from the doorway), I noticed the shiny floors, not of stone, but of a platinum silver. How did one do that- restore a room of Hogwarts? Lest the Room of Requirements, I assumed no inch of Hogwarts could be tampered with, unless down by a high power. I noticed tiny scuff marks along teh floor, probably all of his follower's footsteps. So there I was, in the middle of the room that Voldemort held his meetings of torture and world domination? My body wanted to faint, but my mouth was quicker.

"That? What is it?" I gestured to a particulary fast-moving drape at our left. It showed the Dark mark, but I couldn't let him know that I knew all about it. His eyes darted to the tapestry, then to my brown eyes. A long oval-shaped table sat behind his throne, wine bottles and forgetten glasses upon it. The poor lighting and acient chandilere above us gave the whole room an iredescent glow.

"Just an insignia." He had a innerturmoil sort of battle, and the lying part of him seemed to have won!

"Of what meaning?" I persisted, wanting to know. If he hadn't been ready to answer my questions, he wouldn't have brought me here. It was that simple.

Tom released a low sigh. "You know that I am Voldemort, a dark wizard. I- I have plans for the world. Ingenious, infallible plans." He smirked, his face emmitting a blinging light to my dazed eyes. "To carry out less significant parts of my plan, I entrust my liability in followers; of whom take my insignia upon there forearms. The insignia stands for everything that I believe in. The death of a man is the death of his follower, which is the skull and his trusted companion, the snake." He took my hand and led me to his throne.

"And what do your plans entail?" I reprimanded myself for the saky note in my voice.

"A completely new system of society; the highend wizards are to be put in their place of pedigree, according to his loyalty. I want a completely new world for everyone; a land where wizards and witches can graze freely upon muggles and their kind." He sat in his chair, yanking my hand down to land me ontop of his lap.

"And..." my throat began to swell up, a knot forming there. "And what of Muggleborns?"

"Mudbloods... yes, I see where your heartstrings are pulled." He chuckled and relaxed in his chair of heiarchy, placing a bold hand on the innerthigh of my jeans. "They are of no concern to me, _yet_. If they contest to my plans, I will not hesitate to draw blood." Tom whispered in my ear.

"What do these plans do to benefit you, Tom?" I said testily, not liking how he was lying to me, even under the impression that I was a halfblood witch. When were the lies going to stop?

"Everything." I felt his smirk on my neck. "I will be the emperor of the world, all class of muggle and wizard kind at my feet. People will worship me, faithfully follow me. I will create a more productive version of the world, Hermione. And I want you to be there, beside me." I flinched when he nibbled harshly on my earlobe.

I had to tell Dumbledore how his plans had changed. I needed to know if I was going back to my own time, or if I finally needed to kill him.

* * *

**A/N: So, do you guys believe him?...I don't knowwwwwwwwww. He is known to be a slimy git, with a less than believeable track record. Next chapter will tell you more, I promise!**

**Anybody recognize this room? Anybody have any clue how she is going to communicate with oldie Dumbledore? Anybody ever heard of Novemberfest in Scotland?**

**Questions, questions, questions.**


	6. Realm of Possibility

**a/n: Just to clear everything up- Hermione is in her sixth year. Tom is in his seventh. I APOLOGIZE FOR ANY CONFUSION IN THAT DEPARTMENT AT ALL. It will be fixed, very soon. Please enjoy the update.**

I walked next to Tom, head high and posture tall. The slithering little _bitch_ glided against the floor on the other side of him; I hated that snake- no, I didn't _hate_ it, I absolutely loathed it! Who in there right mind would acquire a snake for a pet, even in the odd wizard world? I shuddered at the knowledge that Tom spoke Parseltongue. That sort of "gift" had so many underlying assumptions one would put with it; in Tom's case, very true assumptions. I heard the not-so-hushed whispers as Tom took my hand and led me into a low key pub (much like Madam Rosemerta's). Why couldn't these people just leave him and me the bloody hell alone? The tacky portraits and flaky wallpaper of the room spoke of the low budget the restaurant (in the middle of nowhere) had. "I apologize for not being capable of taking you to a suitable dining place. I understand this is not what you deserve, but Hogsmeade is the best for now." Tom took my hands from across the table, warming my un-mitted ones very quickly.

For being a cold-blooded killer of the past (I still had to get used to it), he sure did have warm hands. I internally shook my head; I had to remember that he would die, very soon. And pieces of his soul would be divided amongst many things he had encountered in his lifetime. I was grateful that Tom sent Nagini with one of his goons to be taken care of; one more minute with that useless animal and I would be prepared to murder Voldemort with ever fiber of my being. "I like it here." I feigned a smile, making myself remember the good times I spent at the Three Broomsticks with Harry and Ron. It hurt, but I needed to reassure him of the genuine _honesty_. I wanted to scoff; what was true honesty these days? Surely not that rubbish he tried to feed me a few weeks ago. Not kill mudbloods? Yeah, right! Perhaps that was believable in a world where Draco stopped being a coward, Ron became some lucid cheating bastard, and Harry began to have extra-supernatural powers. That world just couldn't exist!

His smile was overwhelming. "Anything to drink?" Sir Vont questioned us briskly, he being the owner and the main waiter to his medium-sized shop. Tom ordered some butterbeers and crumpets for us; well, at least I was allowed a few months of chivalry before I would have to go back to my own time where men ordered silly things from a menu for you- not thinking to ask what it was you truly wanted. And with tom, it was like he knew what I wanted before I even knew. When the owner left us, Lord Voldemort's eyes found mine. They were not red, just a dark kind of marble hue.

"Have you considered taking higher classes for your sixth year? I would enjoy your company in more than just Potions." For whatever reason Dumbledore decided, I only shared once class with Tom. And he made it so that I was one year below him (and everyone else who were great ancestors of my actual classmates). Why go through all of the trouble just to throw more odd obstacles? It just didn't make sense to me. But I shook my head.

"It does sound challenging, because I know most of the information in class because of my free-time being spent studying. I merely don't wish to get in over my head." I shrugged. If Dumbledore would have wanted me to be in Voldemort's year, I would have been placed there. For one reason or another, I was not. It would stay that way, even if I knew for a fact that I would be able to grow closer to him (mentally) by showing him my awe-worthy vast knowledge on everything that mattered to the Wizardry world. As I said before, there was obviously a reason I wasn't right next to him.

"Hermione Granger- to be in over her head? Of course not." Tom teased, and I gawked at the way such a lunatic could be so normal when he wasn't the red-eyed monster.

I just shook my head. "I would not want to mess with your reputation with the ladies," I found myself staring down a woman with long, golden locks by the front door. I noticed her eyes following Tom's every move when we first walked in. I clutched his hand tighter when I saw her lips twitch and a few words escaped her thin lips to a girl sitting with her. as of late, Tom hadn't seemed to notice her. And I wouldn't make a big deal out of a girl staring- that might be mistaken as jealousy.

"What reputation? The one about me being the ultimate leader of kings, or the one where I share my bed with a dozen differed harlots each night?" Tom looked at me with false interest; it seemed I had struck a cord with him. I was only joking! "Rumors are created with the intent of altering a set judgment you have for something or someone. When someone is too perfect, or an object is far too great, humans and wizards alike, band together to create an onslaught of horrible lies that can possibly change the outcome."

When those words left his mouth, my eyeballs snapped up to meet his gaze. He was mostly an emotionless man (lest when he got angry), why say something that could stir so many emotions? Sometimes I got the feeling that he liked toying with my emotions, and perhaps my mind. "Rumors are nasty little buggers." I muttered and took a healthy sip of my drink, warming my throat effectively. We let go of our hands, and I rested mine in my lap.

I needed to talk to Dumbledore.

**Harry POV-**

"It's almost been four months. She could have done anything by now." Ron shrugged as he peered outside the window of the Burrow. I scrunched my eyebrows together in confusion; we had already had this talk with Dumbledore. My redheaded friend must have noticed my look, because he shook his head before resting his chin on an open palm. His lanky figure was hunched and leaning against the odd wooden desk, as if he were the most miserable man in the whole world. Ronald missed Hermione a lot, but he certainly couldn't care less about anyone else around him. "I mean, with a bloke."

I couldn't stop staring at him. "Are you saying you think Hermione is cheating on you?"

Ron sent me a cold look and attempted to scoff. "And probably a lot worse, Harry. You can't really say I'm a loon or dense for thinking about the possibilities. She's alone, and there's no way any of us could ever know. It is the perfect situation for an affair!" Ron's face was beat red when he sent me another look. "Stop looking at me like that." He muttered and looked away from me, back to the oddly rooted trees outside.

I shook my head, my face contorting with frustration. Hermione was far too intelligent to fall into a… time paradox by sleeping with a man from the past. She was far too loyal to break Ron's trust, if even just in her mind. Hermione wasn't a liar, and she wasn't a cheater. Unlike her boyfriend, she was never known to cut corners or take the short way about. Sure, she sometimes did too much! But she never allowed herself to do something potentially wrong. "Than stop talking like that!" I angrily bit back. "Hermione is _my_ best friend, and many would say, _your_ girlfriend. What would your mum think if she ever heard such a thing?" Mrs. Weasley loved Hermione, as we all did. Well, I thought Ron loved her.

"She _is_ my girlfriend, I know that. But, honestly, Harry! Four months and still nothing? Maybe she's found a jolly spot in life in the past? Maybe she figured that if she came back to the future, she would have to deal with Voldemort and the death of everyone. And not to mention, still being a Muggleborn in a magical world. Her alias has some legitimate blood status, and what if she's run off with that?" Ron sighed and rubbed his eyes roughly, as if his ludicrous had any solid ground whatsoever.

"You've gone mental, Ron. I believe in Hermione, completely. The Order has asked her to the impossible, and very dangerously. You should be proud of her bravery, not doubt her loyalty." I spat, not caring that I might have been stepping all over Ron in his mental state. I wasn't going to sit there and entertain all of his lucid ideas.

So I went to visit the one man who knew how to handle these things. It was early in the day, and I assumed Hogwarts would just be waking up. Ron and I decided not to attend Hogwarts, and instead join the Auror Academy instead. Why not? Free classes and we were guaranteed to score outstanding marks with everyone, given our fighting and problem-solving abilities. I flooed my way there, having visited his office more times than I fancied. "Mr. Potter." Dumbledore greeted me kindly, his hands clasped behind his back and his beard almost touching the ground. This was the sight that kept me sane, most of the time. He could understand the most complex riddle, and he could even unravel my mystery of existence.

"Professor." I bowed my head politely, and took the seat he gestured to.

"What brings you to my office, Mister Potter?" Dumbledore gave me a considerate look, but I already knew that he (however he did it) knew what I came for. It was his thing he did well; he could see through everyone, any time of the day. And thus far, my faith in him had never been shaken.

"Hermione, sir. Ron… he brought up some pretty impossible scenarios. But I was wondering… can she truly be trapped in the past?" I looked up at him, where he was calmly observing a portrait of his, as if he had never seen it before.

"Nothing in this world is impossible, Mister Potter. The realm of possibility is forever ongoing, as you surely should have noticed when you became aware of your magical powers. Miss Granger is very intelligent, and I have the utmost faith in her capability." Dumbledore concluded quietly.

"So, is she going to kill him? Is she going to somehow convert the evilest man known to man and wizard kind to the light side?" I stared at him hopefully; I wasn't dense, I knew what this meant. If she killed Voldemort, I would have parents, alive and well. I wanted that outcome so very badly, I could taste it.

He only smiled at me. "Not even I know that, Mister Potter. We are all a blind audience, waiting to be captivated and relieved with the brilliance that is Hermione Granger." That was the first time I ever did hear him speak of my friend as she were the Chosen One and not I. And it was the first time he had ever addressed her by her first name. The problem was, I didn't quite fancy being blind.

"Then we leave it up to time." I concluded, not liking the runaround I received. He knew exactly what was going to happen and bullocks to whoever believed he was content being "blind"- my headmaster was never blind in any situation. Rubbish, if I ever heard it! Dumbledore knew how this was going to play out, else he would have never sent someone out to fail. His Seer powers (if he had any) must have kicked in, and he was given a great vision. But like any vision, things could change.

That was the beauty of making decisions; that was the gift of humanity.

"Precisely, Mister Potter!" Dumbledore's eyes glowed with mischief and fun. "We leave it up to time." There was a note of glee in his voice as he offered a candy to me.

Sometimes that old man had too much fun being all-knowing.

**A/N: SORRY TO THE RON-LOVERS. I'm doing this for a good reason! I asked a male friend of mine what he would think of his girlfriend time traveling, and he had a similar answer to Ron's. So I figured- …since I knew someone who was irresponsible and completely boyish as Ron, why not use his answer? And always, Harry is the level-headed one that seeks some sort of research before creating his own ideas. **

**More Tom/Hermione scenes ahead. I figured the boys were left out of this story far too long. Next chapter in:**

**Ginny's POV-**

**Draco's POV-**

**Abraxas' POV-**

**Dumbledore's POV-**

**Lady's POV-**

**You decide by voting. Through reviews or messages, I don't care. Just vote :)**


	7. Nothing Is Real

"Hello, Hermione." Tom greeted me with a swift peck on my cheek and sat down next to me. I sometimes enjoyed the Transfiguration courtyard; albeit the occasional rowdy game of Snaps, it was perfectly peaceful. How he always knew where I was or how to find me, was a true mystery. How did you truly channel someone? "Has you day been swell, dear?" He seemed to force out the endearment. Tom really was a cold person, and lacked most of the human emotions normal people knew. Sometimes, i had to remind myself that what he did was "sweet" and boy-friendly (even if it was just a basic compliment of drab uniform).

"Tom, you don't have to call me that. I am fine with Hermione." I teased, setting aside my textbook to spend time with him. As soon as class started, I jumped right into my studies. I wanted the year to feel as normal as any other, given my circumstance.

"And I am fine with Voldemort. But I doubt if I will ever hear you say that name again." His black eyes taunted me. They were filled with mirth, and something a little darker. The iris of his eyes were always red, but it wasn't until he grew hungry with emotion that his opals turned a frightening mix of scarlet and mud. We sat leg to leg on a stone bench under a blossom tree, which was currently dead due to the early December snow. "Unless, I do this..." and his hand traveled up my stocking clad leg; it seemed in the forties, a girl wasn't allowed to wear slacks in uniform even in the cold. Was it Dumbledore who would later change that rule to create equality amongst male and female?

Before he could seep under my skirt, I slapped his hand away in irritation. "Stop, Tom." Pecking and occasionally holding hands in public was pushing it, so anything more was absolutely wrong in my book. He seemed to be in love with my legs, as he could never get enough of them. "You're leaving tomorrow." I sent him a thoughtful look, one of which was too real. I was going to miss him, i suddenly realized. In this new world, i was only safe and comfortable around Tom.

He brought my hand to his lips. "Yes, for the Christmas holiday." He clarified; we hadn't really brought this up. "As you are."

I shook my head. "My father and mother are away for Christmas, so I'm staying at Hogwarts." Dumbledore approached me with a letter signed by my "mother and father" that stated they were going to be working on some project for the Ministry and didn't want me a part of the danger. So I would stay at Hogwarts, and I, as well as Dumbledore, hoped this change wouldn't cause any speculation with Tom. I again wondered how Dumbledore set up my whole lifestyle. After extensive research, I came up with two ideas. Either he disillusioned everyone about my name and background, doing the Wichita Spell. It was an intricate spell which provided a person with the life of another, but that said person could only live in the past. That would explain how everybody knew me. But whose life did he switch mine with? The spell often ended in death and disappearances, and few attempts to cast the spell actually ever worked- it took an intelligent, patient wizard- ergo Dumbledore.

My second explanation was that Dumbledore was just the best damn wizard there was out there, and he snapped his fingers and created an alias for me almost a century before my existence. Both made sense! Tom looked at me, studying every little inch of my face. I shriveled back against the stone wall, hoping he would get the hint and stop staring at me. "Would you fancy accompanying me to my family for Christmas?" I could have choked on my own spit!

Honestly, was he still going on about this? I felt like just telling him that he didn't have to pretend that he had a big happy family. I felt like admitting that I knew his parents were dead and gone, one by his own hands. "I wouldn't want to impose on anyone's celebrations." I politely shook my head and looked down at my hands. Sure, it would be hard to live through the holiday celebrations alone since I was already used to spending them surrounded by family. But I could do it, I was a big girl.

He shook his head and grabbed one of my hands. "No, they are dying to meet you. You're all I talk about in my letters to my mother." _Other than diabolical plans?_ Yes, that sounded right. I thought for a second that I was talking to someone else, and not the mean and indifferent Lord Voldemort. If only he treated other people with an ounce of the respect he treated me with! He would be a better person. "My mother has sexual tendencies outside of the marriage, and so does my father. But I believe that they do love each other. If love is truly existent." He chuckled bitterly, and I hoped for the sake of this mission that it was true. I suppose I had never really been in love. I loved Ron and Harry like two very close brothers and Ron a little more. But there was no hot searing passion like I found with Tom Riddle.

Oh, who was I kidding? Tom was just a voodoo doll I was playing a dangerous game with. What if his soul was already split and I was just here to fruitlessly entertain him until he found a more beautiful pureblood woman to take as his girl? "My mom and dad are just plain. Boring and dull." I surmised, not really wanting to have this conversation. Why was he still lying to me? I hated when I felt like a fool!

"Then it is settled?" He smiled down at me. "We will be traveling by floo in two weeks. Pack lightly, whatever you don't have we can buy on our way into Oxford." France? Jesus, I knew he was an orphan! I was going to object and finally spill the beans when he turned and pecked my on my lips. "They will love you, Hermione." He winked at me and left quietly, leaving behind a book he had told me to read over when I had the chance.

I shook my head and opened it out of pure curiosity. I was through a few pages when I noticed the pick up in breeze and the dimming of the sky. I yawned and stretched, shutting the book promptly. I promised myself to start reading it again as soon as I got back in my dorm and dressed for bed. I was stuffing it down in my bag when the edge of a letter poked out from the back of the book, titled Ronselburg's Guide to Six Legged Creatures. I plucked the letter out curiously and held it in my hands like a precious secret I had to shield away from the rest of the world.

I was saddened that it was only the envelope of a letter, no juice at all. _Oh, well_. But then my eyes caught the header of the expensive material, and my eyes almost fell out of their sockets.

_2434 Riddle Manor & Estate_

_Oxford, France 0912_

_To My Beloved Son_

_From Your Loving Mother._

_**Prompt reply is called for.**_

I gawked at the address, and the writing. Since when did owls need addresses? This was all so confusing! I stuffed the letter back in the book and tossed it in my bag. Maybe Scarlet Riddle and Marvolo Riddle were still alive, and maybe Tom did come from money and was raised in a Manor, not an orphanage. I held my head in my hands. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore.


	8. You Were Meant For Me

**A/N: A great singer to listen to while you read this is Jewel! I love that woman, and she is my sole inspiration for this story. Check her out if you've never heard of her- she's an Indie/easy listening/jazzy kind of singer with a unique tone.**

**The lyric I used at the end is You Were Meant For Me by Jewel. Wonderful song, pretty much describes what Hermione would be without this situation.**

I stepped carefully onto the carriage, clutching the handle of Grigio's owl cage to me. I had grown a certain fondness for the occasionally prickly animal; one thing Grigio and I had in common was our unsurpassed hate for Nagini. The little slag was slithering around in her cage of shiny steel, passing me malicious glances every so often. I ignored her, taking her owner's hand just to spite her. Tom looked at me from over his Daily Prophet and smiled at me. Oh, I loved when he smiled. He had beautiful teeth; I didn't know why he didn't like to show them! "You are not nervous, are you?" He inquired softly, as if me being nervous would be the death of him.

I could tell he wanted me to be calm, and I knew how much this meant to him. So I shook my head and feigned a smile. My stomach was queasy with the knowledge that I would be staying in Lord Voldemort's house, without Dumbledore's watchful eye and the safety of dormitories around me. "I feel fine." Tom put down his folded paper on Nagini's cage and brought me closer.

"My parents are going to love you. I promise, Hermione, you will receive the utmost hospitality." He kissed my lips in a chaste statement of his promise. I hoped his parents were normal witches and wizards. But I doubted it! His mother was probably a disastrous, horrifying sight to behold; in my mind I gave her black wings and a wart on her nose. His father was probably as tall as me, with a raspy voice and whiskers! I always imagined Voldemort being borne from creatures, since he was one.

But him so human…? Would his parents look human? "What does your home look like?" I popped the question. I hadn't really wanted to know what the house looked like, but what his parents looked like. But that wasn't a question you just threw out.

He smirked at me. "It's eggshell white, not very big. But my wing is perhaps most impressive. I have acquired, since childhood, many kinds of paintings. Whilst the Manor is full of sculptures and early era tapestries, my section of the house is purely painted art. I believe you will fancy it." I nodded, agreeing for nothing. I really wasn't a big fan of art, never having the ability to spot one famous painting over another. Sure, I read enough about them to know the details and the painters. But the actual art forms had never struck any fancy.

"Your house sounds beautiful." I admitted, wishing my house was colorful and multi-cultural. Back in 2007, my dentist parents were on the verge of breaking up. My father had his collection of golfing clubs, and my mother only really loved the Telly. Enthusiasm for anything more diverse was niche. "My own is a nude color, actually. Not too small, but our kitchen is quite compact. My mother is a pot-collector of sorts." I tried to laugh it off, but it was true. Jan Granger was addicted to buying stainless steel pans and cooking out of them for a variety of meals. She refused to cook anything she couldn't stir fry, or boil. Thinking about my parents put me under a testy mood as I let go of his hand, and tried to camouflage the fact that I was scooting away from him with a yawning-stretching motion. Jan and Henry Granger were two of the same people, coming from middle-class families and attending the same Uni. They met, married, bore me, and sent me off to a whole new world they knew very little about.

My parents weren't radical, but they understood what the light side and magical world meant to me. I decided to not tell them about my time traveling, because all it would do was scare and confuse them. I instructed Ginny to write them letters every week, as my per-usual correspondence was to them. Dumbledore allowed me to go on this mission without parental consent, because if they knew I "time traveled", they could create a time paradox with such knowledge. The more people who knew my body was out in another time, the more risks that could prevail. I had enough risks and decisions, and didn't want anymore. Like this- meeting his parents and spending Christmas with them!

Without the supervision of my former Headmaster, I was literarily helpless. But I needed to stay on a positive note, and make the best of the opportunity that arose. This was the best way to get inside of Voldemort's past and head. It was perfect.

**Later that night- **

Once in the carriage drew into a set of iron gates, guarded by wizards dressed in a deep bronze colored suit, I could not cease my gapping. Tom made his home sound like a cottage, not the beautiful mansion it actually was! I openly gawked at the sight of the three story mansion before me, marveling at the sight. _And I thought Malfoy Manor was big! This definitely gave that manor a run for its money._ "This is marvelous." I uttered, not knowing how to exactly describe the massive feelings of incredibility I had.

Tom peeked casually out the window and shrugged. He didn't often shrug. "As if you have not seen it in the Prophet before? My father fancies making headlines, and he prefers that all of his photographs are taken before the manor, or in front of the Ministry." And Tom rolled his eyes, as if the whole prospect was nothing but silly to him. from what he told me, he and Marvolo got along not too well. And his mum was a pretty little thing, but far too caught up in herself to see past her nose.

I shook my head. "I don't often read the Prophet. Too many lies for my liking." I wrinkled my nose; I stopped my subscription to the Daily Prophet once Rita Skeeter began all of her lies and such in fourth year. I learned how to not believe everything you read!

"No lies at all. Exaggerated truth, yes. Things taken out of context, perhaps. But as you will learn, it is a lot harder to lie than to tell the truth. Truth is truth." He shrugged again. Did he pick that up from me, or something? "A lie is only a lie by an onslaught of standards. But honest aspects are just that, and usually plain as day."

I eyed him for a healthy moment, and didn't look away until the carriage stopped moving. My eyes darted away from his, and I cursed myself for that. We were ushered into the door by an awaiting house elf, which took our bags and left with a snap of his fingers. "I know how you feel." He swiftly turned to me, taking my chin in his hand and pointed it up to me. There was a boyish smirk slang across his face as he leaned down to my level. "But they are fully taken care of. The Riddle house elves are notorious in the bloodline, and they are well a part of the family as the next son." I knew all of that wasn't true, but I hoped a small part of it was. I wanted Tom to have some kind of respect of house elves. Even if I doubted it greatly.

I nodded and feigned a content smile. I didn't want to start the break off with an argument. "I don't condone any elf housework, at all. But if they cared for, I will be content." And I meant it; his word was the best I had thus far. Tom nodded and kissed me, long and softly. I leaned into the embrace of tongues, tipping my forehead to meet his. Why did it feel so good to kiss this man? He was the wizard version of the devil, he was the English version of the South America's Chupecobra, and he was the very speck of evil that caused the ice age! But there in that moment, he was none of those things. He was just a boy that fancied me, and whom I could speak with on long nights and early mornings.

**Dinner**-

Tom showed me to a room right across from his own, on his wing of the house. Wow, wouldn't that be something to have your _very_ _own_ house in your actual house? The prospect was mind-blowing to me. I still hadn't met his parents, but I settled in the lavender colored bedroom and got dressed all fancy for supper. Tom said eating supper was a grand thing in Riddle Manor, so I would not break customs on my very first day. It was a nice coincidence that my favorite color (even down to the powdery shade I liked) was the theme around me. I was slipping on a brown top of satin when I smelled the scent of fresh roses coming from a drawer. I pulled the flowly top over my head, the hem settling right above my prim white skirt. Funny thing about the trunk that I "received" on my bed in my dorm- all of the clothes were strictly forties styled. Very little shorts and trousers, mostly era skirts and tops that covered the shoulders. I had a few pretty dresses but nothing too expensive. And it all eerily looked familiar, as if I had seen them in a picture or magazine article.

My feet were clad in thin black flats, rubbing along the white carpet as I walked closer to the smell. My hands greedily latched onto the knob of the armoire as I yanked it open. Inside, there was a vase of probably two dozen roses with a small note attached. I loved Roses, and special notes. A note was a realm of many possibilities for me! I snatched the piece of card stock and read over it quickly. _**"You are meant for me, Hermione. And I am meant for you."**_ I blushed at the bold statement and collapsed on a nearby daybed, the note held tightly in my right hand. My heart began beating wildly, and a horrible tingly feeling overcame me. With one last look over, I set it down on the coffee stand next to me.

I shook it off with one more glance, styled my hair in a high up do, and pretended to disregard his sweet nothing.

_Same old story, not much to say_. _Hearts are broken, everyday. –Jewel._

**A/N: So, are there any songs/singers I should listen to? Maybe to get my stamina going or to give me some inspiration?**

**I appreciate any response: ) I love you guys! **


	9. Who Will Save Your Soul?

**A/N: Jewel has gotten me through this quick update! Thank her :) **

Tom met me at the bottom of the grand staircase; his arm bent and cocked for mine- much like the perfect gentlemen. I smiled and nodded to him as he led us to the dining room, which must have had its own designated area away from the kitchen. I had never really enjoyed a large manor before; Black Manor was dreary and broken down, and when I was in Malfoy Manor, I was being tortured and cursed at. Riddle Manor would be the only Manor I would enter ever again, I knew that. And as we ventured to our spot, Tom would briefly point out some odd pieces and explain their worth. The Riddles had very few painted pieces, and even less speaking portraits. I had only seen two, and they were of two men sitting at a table setting stakes. That was very close to my own room, so I assumed it belonged to Tom. "You are a valued guest in the house; anything you want, you shall receive." He gestured the door as he opened it, giving me just a peek as to what I would be faced with inside.

My fingers played with the satin skirt of my gown, the sweetheart cut covering my cleavage to propose a demure look. "Thank you." I murmured, looking up at him. he wore what my father would a Sunday best, with dressy slacks and a tucked in button-up. Gone were his uniform pants and oxford shirt. This look he had going for him made me want to… ravage every part of him. it was truly an irresistible sight, to see him holding a door open for me and all cleaned up. _Mine for the taking,_ I thought and licked my lips. I shook my head roughly, snapping out of the sex drive that came over me. What was I thinking? Since had sex ever entered the equation? This was not the situation to even consider that sort of the thing.

And besides, I wanted to wait for a fairytale man and run off to get married. I knew Tom was very far from Prince Charming. "Well, hello, young lady. Fine to meet you, Miss Granger." A man of athletic stature and tall build greeted me sharply; he stood and pulled out a seat in the middle of the table for me. I nodded and blushed in appreciation and sat gracefully, trying my hardest to not make a fool of myself. Tom took a seat across from me, winking and smiling a sultry sort of smirk.

It seemed Mr. and Mrs. Riddle sat at the Mistress and Master seats, at two opposite ends. "You look absolutely swell, Miss Granger! Such a darling shade of Alizarin Crimson you're wearing! Which do you prefer, Elf Wine or Dievanaire?" I doubted this woman was his mother; she was nearly an Amazon woman, with lustrous brown locks that framed her angelic face nicely. I caught myself staring at her flawless face and forced myself to look away and speak.

"W-water will be fine, M-Mrs. Riddle." I swallowed loudly, hoping no one heard. Merlin, was this a set-up? Did Tom know I was a phony? Was this all just some stupid fake situation he made to corner me into submission? He had to have known I wasn't really from this time, and I knew he didn't really have living parents- and they definitely weren't so perfect and beautiful.

Mrs. Riddle giggled, and I found that it sounded like a million little butterflies taking flight. "Oh, please call me Mishka! And Tom's father, Marvolo." Her big doe eyes of dark cedar ( I knew where his reddish eyes came from) gestured to the sharp chap who greeted me.

I nodded, not really knowing if I should refuse the polite offer or not. Were you suppose to refer to these kinds of people by surnames or not? "Of course, Mishka, Marvolo. My first name is Hermione." I smiled shyly, not knowing what came over me. This was weird and so alien- introducing myself to living parents of Lord Voldemort? It just didn't seem real to me.

Mishka had a stunning smile as she looked upon her son. I referred back to a conversation he and I had once; I do remember him calling her a whore, and his father a liar. Where was his _sordid_ attitude about them now? "_Hermione_ Riddle. Hmm, that has a certain _ring_ to it." She laughed joyously, creating a drop in color on my face. Me, becoming a Riddle? That would truly be the end of the world- literally! I knew I either had to kill him or destroy his power, and that didn't include marital vows.

"Mother." Tom had a warning tone as he swept his glance across her, making even me feel ten inches tall. "That is quite enough." He wiped his mouth with a napkin demurely, but slipped me a silent gaze that told me he enjoyed the sound of that, also. I looked away, down at the smoked salmon that appeared like magic before me. No elves to serve? That was different.

"Tom told us how you dislike elves going about with their cleaning and service chores, so we enlisted their lessened help and relied on our magic for the next three weeks. We would like for you to think of this as a second home; we will accommodate your wishes, Miss Hermione." I marveled at how he sounded just like his son. Marvolo cut into his steak as if he had done a million times, blindfolded.

I nodded and sipped from my ice cold water. It went down my throat easily, and filled my tummy with reassuring warmth. For the rest of dinner, Tom and his father had some heated and casual conversations over politics and literature, Mishka smiled at me a lot, as if I were the most beautiful piece of joy she had ever encountered. "You make my son _very_ happy." She murmured low enough to be heard just by me. "I very much appreciate what you do for him."

I wiped my mouth with the edge of the black linen napkin from my lap. "He is my happiness, also." It wasn't a lie; Tom did raise my spirits, he was there for me, and he never put me down. He was perfect boyfriend material, minus the whole Voldemort thing on his back. "But I do not foresee marriage as soon as you must." I laughed that off, but she only smirked.

"But I have faith." She patted my hand softly; as soon as her hand let mine, I felt a touch of coldness pass me. This was real, this was real, and _this_ was real. I looked around the room, not even bothering to be inconspicuous. This was not fake! When wizards and witches resurrected corpses or performed glamour charms, a human's unique trait could not be copied- _warmth_. I shut my eyes and sucked in a silent breath. So what the hell happened to make everything be…haywire? Did this mean Harry's parents were alive? Did this mean Ron and Harry never meet? Did this _little_ fact change how his plans of world domination would happen? Would he really still want to kill all Mudbloods, or was he cool with my kind since he was from a radical family?

I was so utterly confused; all the different changes got to my brain. Thinking clearly was getting difficult.

_There are addictions to feed, And there are mouths to pay. –Jewel._


	10. Back In Black

"Tom?" I called softly from where I sat, perched nicely on the arm of his Victorian-style easy chair; it was burgundy, with a high back and enough room to completely swallow me up if I ever dared to sit in it. He looked up at me fondly from his Daily Prophet, his beautiful blue orbs shining in the night, as they always did. The fire gave the library a warm and light that not even a sunny day could rival. "Why do you hate your parents? They're perfectly fine."

Tom looked back down at his paper, bored with the question. "Hermione, I don't want to elaborate. Drop it, already." His tones were clipped and his lips were pinched in a madman's drawl. He never wanted to elaborate, he never wanted to explain, and he never wanted to talk too much about something new.

"Then why did you bring me here? If you think I'm such a nuisance and ask too many questions, you could have left me at Hogwarts!" I angrily called, not caring whom I disturbed. "You are insufferable! You are so unwilling to have one civil, intelligent conversation with me. I believe I have been more than understanding- now explain this whole thing to me." I finished strongly, standing up to tower over him.

Tom's muscles in his jaw worked as he folded up his newspaper and sized me up. "What exactly do you want to know? The part where my father beat to a pathetic, weeping pulp as a child? Or the part where my mother was a belligerent, whorish drunk who didn't care what her husband did?" My eyes watered at the prospect of Tom as an adolescent, being beaten and talked down to; no one deserved that! Not even Voldemort. "You want to know that there is a reason for becoming a raging, evil Voldemort, right? Well, Hermione, there isn't. I've become a man who deserves immortality and power, and I've done so on my own." He stood up and looked down at me; I gulped in something akin to fear and arousal.

"So you just kill for no reason? Not because you were abused, or unloved?" I ventured out, not willing to admit to the growing fear at the pit of my stomach.

His harsh chuckle awoke me from my stupor. "I need not justification. The long nights of torture beneath my father's bleeding fist and accumulation of interesting weapons did not make me the monster; his sharp words that cut like knife once made me bleed, but not anymore." He laid a hand on my shaking frame, his cold eyes a brighter shade of red now. "Do you see know why I chose to omit my parent's past? I didn't want your judgment to be impaired, and I wanted this holiday to be pleasant for you. But you just aren't satisfied until you've resurrected everybody's closeted closet." And he walked away, a grim sort of air about him. Had I done that to him? Had I angered him to the point of melancholy?

I threw myself down on a comfy piece of furniture, staring down into the fire. I never meant to get that kind of reaction from him. I only wanted answers. A drowsy part of me figured that this was my_ entire_ fault. Had I not gone to the past, he would have grown up as an orphan that was taken in by Hogwarts and gone under Slughorn and Dumbledore's careful eye. Now, because of my presence, he was born unto and raised by hellish people- Mr. & Mrs. Riddle. I wanted to cry, not just for Voldemort, but for myself. How was I ever going to get back to my own time when I messed everything up here? There was no way I could Voldemort now, since I knew him as Tom Riddle. Maybe killing him was never the plan? Maybe Dumbledore sent me in particular because he knew I wouldn't have it in me to kill- no matter what deeds he would later go on to do. Maybe I just needed to change him.

"_Put your wand down, Miss Granger!" Dumbledore called strongly, but I blinked his command away. Here I had Fenrir Greyback at my feet, and all I should do was bind him for Azkaban Aurors? No! no, I would not. I would take vengeance upon every Death Eater in the name of the Order- of all the lives Voldemort had taken and would soon take. I wasn't born a spiteful person, and I still wasn't one- but they took so much from us! "The Aurors will arrive suddenly! Killing him will not bring us back our fellows that we have buried. Stay true to your nature, Miss Granger. Stay true to your morale."_

_That was the bloody thing about Dumbledore- always gave people their own choices. He let you regret or take joy in your decisions, and took no credit of his own. If I shot a killing curse at Greyback, it would be my own doing. If I didn't- well, I'd have to live with that decision for the rest of my life. I couldn't pin any decision on my Headmaster- he was only my guiding star. "I can't!" I wailed, bringing down my wand to my leg, no curse leaving my lips._

_There, I didn't kill him. My eldest mentor nodded and sent me half of a smile- a smile of approval, as if I did the right thing. I thought of what Harry might have done… **that** would have been the right thing to do._

I stirred in my sleep, waking up to the darkness of early morning. I stared up at the ceiling, small stars and shapes charmed to move about above me. I had never killed a man, and I would never kill one. Images of tiny Tom Riddle being abused and neglected made me cringe with girth. Who would do that to their children? Sure, his mom wasn't the one doing the beating- but she was aware, and did little to nothing to stop it. I wiped my eyes to get rid of the perspiration the images created within me. I was cursed with a bleeding heart- and from where I got it from, I wasn't sure. My father hunted game all year round, and my mother was as empathetic to the poor and hungry as Voldemort was to mudbloods. I didn't know any of my grandparents, and I had very few local relatives- none of which I knew too personally. I, again, imagined a four year old Tom, crying and begging for mercy under his father's touch- and I just watched on, his slob of a mother at my side doing to the same.

I sat up in bed and covered my face with my hands. I was so ashamed, and so helpless. There was nothing I could ever do to take something like this back, or even try to make it better. I had to be worthless, to the people in my time counting on me to make it better, and Tom Riddle now- an evil boy, all the same. I felt two large hands seep into my hair, and a man's warm breath fan over my face. Silently, I allowed my hands to drop to my lap and I looked up at the midnight stranger. Tom was mute as he angled my head to his level and smiled. "Bad dream?"

I nodded. "A nightmare, indeed." I whispered in reply.

He let his hands fall to my waist and pulled me to him, a content look on his face. "I figured your weak stomach couldn't take something like that. Try not to think of it, Hermione." He kissed my temple and urged me to lie back down. I did so and stared up at him, waiting for him to bring out his acoustic guitar and start playing already. "Please." He prompted.

I licked my lips and pushed away the dreary feeling I had. "Lay with me, just until I fall asleep, please?" I prompted back. I suppose it would help if I knew he was lying next to me; I could keep him safe if I was right there with him. No possible harm could come to him that way. There was a devilish glint in his eye as he kicked off his shiny shoes and unbuttoned his collared shirt. Had he even been to bed yet? "Nothing funny, Tom." I insisted and scooted over so he would have enough room. I heard him mutter something, which was probably illicit, so I ignored it. I quickly looked away as he unbuttoned his trousers and slid them off. How dare him! I was a young, unmarried woman in the forties! How could he just do that?

My neck burned with a newfound emotion, which began in my lower belly and traveled to my throat. Was I somehow aroused by just watching him undress? Without his scales and lack thereof a nose, he was quite attractive. Tom slid in next to me, and I figured my warning would be enough to keep him on his side. But he only laughed as I gasped at his warm touch; he wrapped his arms around my body and brought me close to him. I felt his… growing erection against my bum. Did I ever imagine Voldemort would be spooning me after a bad dream? Mentally, I shook my head and dug my face into the pillow. Tom felt the need to nuzzle his face into my neck, causing goose bumps to erupt along my body and the fire in my belly to blaze inferno.

"I'm so sorry." I murmured once a silent moment passed us. He said nothing, just kissed a sensitive spot on my throat and held me tighter. "For everything." I ended with a waver in my voice. More wetness grew around my eyes, and a few drops fell on my pillow. I sniffled to get rid of the nauseating feeling, and it must have stimulated Tom to action.

He twisted my body roughly to face him. "Do not ever apologize to me, Hermione, because you can do nothing wrong." Tom pressed his forehead against my own. "What my parents did has nothing to do with you." I wanted to protest and tell him that was a lie, but I just didn't have it in me. I wasn't ready to drop the bomb on him; he thought he loved me unconditionally, but I knew he didn't. "I should have never told you, it was a mistake. _I_ am sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to put a damper on your spirits." He kissed my lips softly.

"It wasn't a mistake, I'm glad you shared it with me." I whispered. "When two people care for each other, they let each other know about their secrets and their pasts. It's what made you a stronger person." And I initiated the kiss, dragging my lower lip against his. "It just hurt me to know that I could have never done anything to help you."

He chuckled. "Oh, Hermione, do you really think you're going to be able to help everyone you meet? It's not possible, no matter how badly you wish it."

I snuggled my head into his chest and closed my eyes. "That's what magic is for. I need not a simple _wish_."

He laughed, again. I loved it when he laughed. "If it gives you any peace, I thought of you many times when he took me to the dungeons. I thought how you might have held me, or attempted to duel him for my freedom." The next chuckle was strangled. "But one thought won over any other; I promised myself that no pain would ever cometh to you, since I knew every single pain there was out there. He stopped after Third year; as if it made it better that he only hurt me long enough until tormentors at school picked up on it. Your father's reputation preceded you, as you must know now. Not one person liked you in Slytherin, and had you been placed in our House… they would have mangled you, socially and perhaps even physically."

I stiffened; just what had my father done? "My dad…" What was something a Slytherin hated you for? Morale? Honesty? Loyalty? "He married a Muggleborn and had me."

Tom nodded. "This is a prejudicial time. I don't suppose it will ever get better." And he was right, but I wouldn't tell him that. "And so you were my inspiration to rise to power and create within myself, a product of mind over matter. I needed power over purebloods to control the half-bloods, and power over blood traitors to take _care_ of the mudbloods." I winced at the word. "Taking care" had no positive meaning, I knew as much.

"So, who exactly do you want to destroy?" I questioned timidly.

"Everyone." He murmured. "Everyone in opposition to my rule and place. Unlike you, love, I believe in superiority. That is within blood status."

"Have you never thought that we are all the same?" I peered up into his opals.

They were closed off. "I believe that you were meant for me, to be taken care of and forever be treasured. I've wanted to have children with you for a very long time, and I have wanted to steal your name and replace it with my own. But before that, I wanted to make sure I had all of my marbles in tow. World domination is all I have ever wanted, aside from your touch." Tom kissed the sides of my mouth, and then my chin. "After you graduate your seventh year, I will take power over the Wizardry world and every world after it." There was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes, and a quirky smile on his face. he looked kind of… happy.

"Why are you telling me all of this?" I had to know, I needed to know why he entrusted me with everything.

"Because you were going to ask anyway." I nodded and kissed him once more, cuddling against him again. I wasn't ready for anymore secrets or world domination blueprints. I had had enough for one day.


	11. It's Something About Time

It was Christmas morning and Tom was seated next to me, whispering naughty things and making a joke about it. We were at the dinner table, but Mishka and Marvolo were absent. I hadn't really the care to see them after Tom told me the truth, and so I asked no questions when they didn't show up for breakfast. "What would you like to do today, Hermione?"

I looked at him questioningly. "Whatever it is you wish to do."

"In such a case, we would spend our entire day locked away in the dungeons, concocting dangerous potions and creating illegal, dark magic." He winked playfully, trying to make the best of our large gap in magical ethics.

I shook my head. "We can perhaps go skating on the pond? Or we can dress in our cloaks and make snow angels on the fresh fallen drift. How does that sound?" I was hopeful that he wanted to do something that involved the outdoors for once. The manor was very nice, but I needed badly to get out and breathe some fresh air. "Unless you have a different idea?"

He nodded, staring into my eyes like they were the last piece of ambrosia left on this planet. "I shall do whatever you wish." I wanted to believe he was my puppet on a string, but I knew I was the real marionette here. _I_ was the one that worked and thrived on commands, not him. It wasn't something I was immensely proud of, but I knew it to be true- too true, in fact!

"Then off we are." I grabbed his arm and he led me to the back door, slipping me into a wool cloak that clasped at my neck before we stepped foot outside. I wore breeches that morning, knowing full well that I was in for a much-needed adventure. "Here looks fine." I plunked on top of a log and began lacing up the skates his mother kept in her closets. Figure skating was never in the cards for me, but I took some lessons when I was a child (to opt out of piano and ballet lessons, of course). I knew how not to fall… that was about all I derived from my lessons. When I was done, I turned to Tom for guidance. "Aren't you going to join me?" I looked pointedly ahead of me, as if saying "_I am not doing that alone_", but he only shook his head. I held out my hand to him, outstretching it forcefully. "Come on, Tom, it's not that hard. It's quite relaxing." I tried desperately to coax him, but there was no use. Just stern rejection.

So I touched down on the ice, testing it to be cemented enough for a lazy skate. Soon, I was gliding easily, teetering every so lightly when I thought he was laughing at me. "I was not aware you enjoyed ice skating."

I shrugged. "I enjoy a lot of things. I take opportunities as they come and make the best of them."

"Am I an opportunity?" I eyed him from the corner of my vision and skated with my back to him. Why was he asking something like that? Was he not aware of _space_? It was almost like he was trying to suffocate me with a confession of love for him. Of course, _love_ was off limits in this situation. Love had nothing to do with what I had to do.

"Of course not." I said smoothly. "You're my best friend." I sent him a dashing smile, grasping the two ends of my cloak as I glided a few more loops. "Would you like a kiss?" I decided to dare myself; if I could pull of sexy-Hermione, I could do anything. If I could do this, I could fool myself into doing anything. He sent me a smoking look, like he wished to rip a part my Cheshire smile into tiny bits. "If you want to touch these lips, you're going to have to walk across this ice." I gestured to the frozen ground beneath me, goading him to follow me. "Why are you so scared of the ice?" My nose was an impossible pink and the tips of my fingers were frozen numb, but it was worth it all to be out here- breathing the air of the rest of the world.

"I am fearful of nothing in this world, or the next." His words were light, as if we were just talking about the color of his shoes. "I detest skating, because there is no true point to it. For women, it is only to portray her grace or lack thereof it." He pointedly looked down at my shoes. "But I appreciate your enthusiasm. It's a refreshing prospect." That put me down; would he take anything I did seriously? Would he ever enjoy anything I enjoyed? At least I _tried_ some of his hobbies! I stomped off on to the snow and slammed my bum down on the log, frivolously pulling at the laces until they gave way. "Are you done so soon? The pond may not be skate-able tomorrow; new snowfall is expected for tomorrow."

I ignored his statement and yanked off the skates, hurrying to keep the warmth of my stocking-clad feet in my boots. Tom was a wretched creature when he wanted to be! His comments about skating settled within my mind; did he feel that way about everything I did? Did he feel that everything I did was to either show off, or to fall on my ass? I wanted to hurl the white leather skates at him, where he stood across the pond. But I was taught to respect other's property, so I dipped down and packed a snowball tight and shot it at him. He didn't even flinch as it hit his chest, and I had a niggling feeling that he knew exactly where it was going to land. _Oh, he was impossible!_ "Does anything affect you?" I screeched, finitely frustrated by the emotionless man in front of me. He hadn't even cried when he retold his childhood troubles. Nothing could get into this stone cold carcass of a human. "Oh, I forgot! You're _Voldemort_ now." I ended bitterly, staring him down as he moved closer to me. "What's going, Tom? What aren't you telling me?" I was near begging him to give the information, but he refused. He never told me anything that went on.

"I've told you everything, Hermione. Fact of the matter is, I don't enjoy childish things like ice skating and snowball fights. I was never introduced to the notion, and I find that I missed no true joys." His hand latched to mine, gripping excessively to show dominance. "I understand that your parents gave you a childhood of excessive happiness, and allowed you to do as you pleased, with no certain responsibilities on your shoulders." I couldn't disagree; I never my decoy father of this time, but in my own time my parents never put me under stress. They worked, they kept their fights to themselves, and they stressed to me that they only wanted my happiness. I could his and my life was very different. I may as well have been courting Draco Malfoy!

"How do you know you don't enjoy it, if you've never tried it?" I shot back, not willing to let him have his way.

"I see how stressed you become once you've touched the ice, and judging by the five-feet-throw you landed on my chest, the ice is too soft for snowballs."

"Well, you've got an answer for _everything_, don't you?" I replied bitterly. He was such a dud sometimes! It was like being attached to an old, nearly dead man. Was Tom nearly dead? I silently mused how technically, he was.

He sighed bitterly, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking back up at me. "I am sorry, Hermione. If it will make you content, I will skate with you-"

"No, Tom! Don't you get it?" I yelled angrily, bristling at the fact that he was oblivious to me. "It's not the skating or the snowball, and it's not about my contentment. It's about the fact that you seem to truly enjoy nothing. Life has ceased to appease your curiosity. You're just a numb, dull creature that paints this shield around him to keep the rest of the world out." I threw my hands up in the air. "I'm not sure that _I_ even make you happy!" my eyes were teary from the snow, and they were forming tear drops as I let my emotions take over. Logic told me to stop and shut up before I blew it with him. My heart told me to keep going. "Does anything make you happy, Tom?"

He looked at with those reddish eyes that were more black than crimson. He was dead and ignorant to human feelings, I finally understood. I was far too late; he lost his ethos long, long ago. "You are the only aspect of my life that serves me bliss, Hermione. You are much more than happiness and you do _not_ know the trials I have gone through to ensure our happiness together." When he spoke like that (like he cared), I melted like butter on a spoon. Tom knew exactly how to speak to my heart; he knew which strings to pull!

"It seems like you're never happy." I shrugged, taking a few small steps forward. "I just want to know if I am still… _desirable_." A small pout formed on my lips, as I wasn't sure just how this would affect him. Would he see right through it and realize that I was not one inch the temptress I was attempting to portray? "In the midst of your darkest desires, am I present any longer?" I took a few more steps to be in his direct vision, but it wasn't like his eyes ever left me in the first place. "Am I, Tom?"

"You are my only desire, dark and light both." He murmured, wrapping his arms around my waist. His stoic grasp locked me in an iron-clad imprisonment; I was to be forever trapped within his embrace, never seeing the light of day again. I closed my eyes, knowing full well that his lips were inches from my own. It was a sweet release to have his mouth against my own; how could I trust in this beast? How could I let my guard down around a monster that would soon destroy everything I knew?

Why couldn't I turn away from him, even when I reminded myself just how harsh of a pain he caused me? Why couldn't I find morale within me and walk away from something when it was well enough all on its own? "Truly?" I angled my face away from his mouth's amble journey, keeping eye contact with him. I was choosing to do things this way; I was done with thoughts of murder and treason. I wanted Tom, and I wanted to be here. I was going to change the future, drastically.

Tom chuckled and forced my mouth back to his own with a stern wrap of fingers around my chin. "Truly." And that was all I needed. That was all it took to make my decision. I was going to give him the blood of an innocent, so that he could see the light of day.


	12. Listen To Your Heart

His hands were everywhere, all at once- down my stomach, up my shirt, and around my head. He cradled my body against himself as his pelvic ground into my own, creating a great dip in the mattress. I sighed as a ripple of excitement coursed down my spine and right through my limbs. It made my toes wiggle in crowded bliss as he craned his neck to kiss right above my neckline. We were rid of our cloaks and scarves, and the accumulation of the day's clothes would soon be a pile. His hand traveled the length of my leg, then dipped into the moist triangle of what my world had been centered on for the past two days. Sex. Oh, I knew now what I had been missing all of those years. I supposed that it would have never been so great had it been casual and unmeaning, like it wasn't with Tom. His hand juked my senses and left my pulsating walls, instead traveling up my flat stomach and the wrapped over my hip bone. His black eyes caught mine as he nipped softly at the sensitive skin of my knee, then farther down to my inner thigh.

I mean, I wasn't any sort of slick temptress or overly-aggressive bed partner. At least, I didn't think I was. "Tom!" I hissed, not able to push the burning feeling of my lower lips away much longer. He knew precisely how to tease. His mouth finally found my entrance, and the wonders he did to my body…oh, it was scream-worthy. And scream I did. It embarrassed me sometimes how vocal I was. He assured me it was fine and completely sexy to voice my pleasure, I but I still wasn't too keen on the screeching noises I made. It seemed too unnatural, and sort of animalistic.

His tongue lapped at the bud of my womanhood (as I didn't know how to explain it any other way); the feel of his smooth tongue along the soft walls of my vagina was too much to handle, along with the territorial way he looked at me. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to feel like I was exploding and peeing at the same time, but that was what a "Tom Riddle" Orgasm felt like. It was like completely letting go of everything. "Mine." He murmured against my skin, relishing in the fact that he could start and stop my brink of insanity at any moment he wished. "Your body is mine, Hermione. I make you whither, I make you plead. You're mine." He hissed, sliding two fingers into the heated mess he created. My eyes shot closed and my lower half rose to meet the thrusts of his fingers. Oh, that was divine. My mind wasn't on all of the repercussions. I was only thinking about how he felt on top of me.

This was what the last hour consisted of. He was teasing my body, and I coming to my explosion of pleasure time and time again. I wasn't the Kama Sutra of all sex, but I knew that intercourse was about two people's satisfaction. So far, only I had been satisfied. In between our excursion, I offered to sexually… _release_ him, but he blatantly refused. Tom knew I was absolutely new to this all, and he wanted my experience to be as selfish as possible. "How does that feel?" Tom tilted his head to fully see my facial expression. I clenched hard and begged my body not to let go so fast.

"It feels…great." I gasped as he applied more pressure with one of his phalanges. A string of explosives went off inside my head and I allowed myself to flow onto his hand, and suddenly the knot in my stomach completely disappeared. I shut my eyes as fireworks blazed off in all directions; this couldn't feel so wonderful with any other man. I knew I could only orgasm like this with Tom Riddle, and no one else. "Thank you." I whispered as he moved to be beside me. His large hand sought mine and spread my fingers apart to lock within his own. "You make me feel… explosive, like TNT." I chuckled, not knowing anyway else to explain it. My whole face became an ugly shade of red as I thought about all of the other things I wanted to do with him- of all things I wanted him to do to my body. Tom kissed me quietly, and so soft that I doubted it was him actually kissing me.

The kiss turned intense in only a few seconds; I partially blamed it on the high that I was on after my killer orgasm. I tore a part his shirt and then urged off his pristine wife beater. My fingers were anxious as they undid his belt quickly, and as I pulled down his copper zipper, his hand covered mine. "Slow down, Hermione." Tom urged, a rough edge to his voice. I nodded and shrunk away, embarrassed that I was acting out like hormonal-raging female. He laughed easily and kissed me again. "Don't be embarrassed. This is new to you, and I want this moment to be as memorable as it can be for you. I want you to forever remember how I took your innocence like a thief in the darkest hour of night." His voice was sweet in the beginning, but grew more ominous and sexy as he kept on. "I want you to have the most vivid memory of your screams, and the power behind my thrusts." I closed my eyes, the shiver of excitement coursing through my body all over again. Tom kissed every inch of my body before stripping me of my top and brazier.

"Tom." I hissed, arching my back to mold itself against his own. It was a completely other worldly feeling to be bare, skin to skin against him. But it was wonderful. Our only barrier was his underwear, and it was flimsy as all hell by now. "I'm scared." I suddenly admitted, not knowing why I was even allowing him to touch me in those intimate places. I was a virgin and never could have imagined giving my virginity to the all-hating Lord Voldemort. I had always imagined it would be my best friend Harry, or my red-headed confidant Ronald Weasley to tale my innocence; I trusted them enough to give them that. I never imagined it would be Tom Riddle- the scared, broken dark spirit that haunted my life and the lives of my fellows.

"You are in the arms of the most feared wizard of our world and the next. There is nothing to be afraid of." He gently nipped the crook of my neck.

I wiggled beneath his touch. "No, Tom, I don't think you understand. I'm- I'm still… I mean, I've never had…you know, sex." I whispered, starry eyed and hopelessly vulnerable. What would he think of me now? Just a minute ago I was a sexy temptress that was trying to get into his pants, and now, here I was- scared out of my wits and being a prudish little tease!

He chuckled and kissed my lips roughly. "Of course you are still a virgin, Hermione." His body hovered over mine hungrily, and the predatorily look in his eyes sent me in a sort of frenzy. "Do you truly think I would ever let another man touch your uncharted body? They would be dead at my hand first." He murmured against my chest, wherein he maneuvered over one of my breast and began biting and sucking gently. "You are mine, Hermione. You always have been." And with that, his thrust penetrated my body. It felt like he was tearing the walls of my stomach and not my private area. I gasped and clutched onto his shoulder, burying my face in his neck. It hurt so very badly, and I knew the liquid between my thighs and around his slick member was not my release, it was blood. From the firelight, our silhouetted bodies joined as one for the first time.

"Tom!" I cried, pleading him a frantic voice not to move. I wouldn't be able to take it if he moved inside of me. It felt totally unnatural to have sex- like my body was hurting only because this was never supposed to happen. "You're too big." I mumbled, feeling too weak to speak loudly. I couldn't take this pain much longer.

My sobs started quietly, and tears soon followed. "Shhh, Hermione. Don't cry. I can make you feel better." He kissed my hair and made a quick show of moving out and pushing back in. His second try hurt more than his first and I nearly fainted with the white hot pain between my thighs. Why was Merlin punishing me so? It was a sore, aching kind of feeling that overtook my body. I began to see Harry and Ron in my mind, both of my parents in the background. What would they think of me, if they ever knew? As we proceeded to explore each other's body, the pain did subside partially. But the agony still churned within me. Was it his size? Was it my size? Was it because this was just wrong on so many levels that I was being chastised by a higher power?

Tom's eyes never left mine as he skillfully played my body like he rode a broomstick. I finally shut my eyes and allowed myself, for the first time, let go of the real world around me. I fell within myself and released every inhibition within me. My mind pushed away the scowls of my friends, and the displeasured lectures of my mother and father. My fingers threaded into his soft hair and pulled roughly, pecking his wet lips with my forceful ones. It felt like we had only one day together- the rest of my life was ending the next day as I knew it. When my release came, I was floating on a pulsating cloud, with a beautiful madman above me. I wanted to congratulate him for his wonderful services (as if he were some emotional prostitute), and I knew not a good way to do so. I wasn't exactly… skilled at any of this yet. When Tom was done with me, I knew I would be.

Did I want to be with anyone after Tom? I shook my head mentally. Tom Riddle wasn't a forever thing, I knew that. I was going back to own time soon enough. I needed to remember that! So why the next three words popped out of my dry lips, I would never know. "I love you." I spluttered hoarsely before pressing my mouth to his throat, holding on to him nude body for support as he found his own personal pleasure.

"I don't know where you're going,

And I don't know why.

But listen to your heart

Before you tell him goodbye."

-DHT


	13. Strawberry Fields Forever

**A/N: ARTIST OF THE WEEK-**

**The Beatles! **

**Well, actually, their more like "artist of the century" (obviously one of my favorite bands). **

**Rated M for a reason.**

I wasn't sure just how that sentence slipped from my dry lips, but it did. Those words would surely be the death of me; Voldemort didn't love, he didn't even care! Tom didn't push me away and cringe at my stupid words, but neither did he repeat them back to me. Why was I such a jerk? Why did I have to be so ungraceful with my dialogue? Did I really feel that way?

_Yes_, I could audibly moan. But was that just the _sex_ talking? I mean, I didn't _really_ know what love meant. Was it a strong feeling of contentment? Was it a surge and mix of a bunch of different feelings, all so indescribable and labeled with one word? Harry and Ron never talked about it and even though my parents said it to each other each morning before they left to their separate offices and each evening before my mother went to clean up supper and he to his personal study, they never actually explained it to me. When I was writing Viktor Krum towards the end of my fourth year, we never once spoke of fond feelings through correspondence. It was a deep friendship, with one small peck at the end of the Yule Ball. Nothing more, nothing less. I felt moist lips stick themselves against the side of my face, then down my jaw. I moaned in pleasure, loving the way his mouth felt on me.

I awoke many times during the night to his lovemaking. It was a duty of mine to keep my virginity until I was much older but with Tom, the moment felt right and it just happened. It would never be a regret of mine, and I wouldn't let the guilt of not waiting until marriage fully manifest itself within me. His fingers pulled down the thin fabric of my fresh panties; when we first made love, my bleeding was profuse and dark red. For all I knew, I might as well have dying from his penetration! His pleasuring subsided long enough to magically clean ourselves up, as well as his expensive bed. When I blushed in humiliation, he promised the bed was nothing and laid me down and pleasured me again to prove it. Though I didn't see the trouble in wearing any clothes if he was only to strip me of them in a mere hour or so.

My cheeks stained red. I couldn't imagine allowing Tom to actually see my bare body, let alone let him fall sleep with my naked, curled up against him. After his large shirt (that made for a sleeping gown of mine) was off, my breasts were free for his sights. I arched my back as he stroked them softly. "Say it again." His silk voice demanded harshly, as his face was mere inches from mine. Why was he so much bigger than I was? Did Merlin intentionally create him to be the much larger ratio than me? Or was it all just a simple act of selflessness on Nature's part?

"W-what?" I murmured, half alert and still half asleep. Say what again? I knew I spoke in my sleep more often than I cared to talk about… did I say something stupid? I guess it didn't matter if it was that stupid, because it seemed to turn him on. "What do you want me to say?"

"Tell me you love me again, Hermione. _Say_ it." His voice was just a whisper, as if just imagining it was getting him off. He wanted me to repeat that? I thought once was awful enough for him, but if he wanted me to, then I would.

"I love you." It almost came out as a question when I said it this time. Before, it was raw and had been out of pure lust. Were all lovers this intense and intone to everything I was feeling? I had feeling the answer to my question was no, but I sure wasn't going to go and find out anytime soon. I only wanted Tom's hands on me- he didn't make me feel cheap or sleazy, and I liked more than a brother, or best friend. By the time he was done licking, nipping, and teasing I was screaming that sentence over and over again- just to feel him take things up a notch. We were far past brother/sister, comrade/best friend. He was my full-fledged lover, the celestial being that made every one of my sex-driven dreams come true.

_But what was I to him?_

After another course of lovemaking (Tom had an insatiable thirst), I fell into a deep slumber. In my dreams, I saw Harry and Ron waving their hands happily and hugging me softly. Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, scribbling furiously on a magical notepad of sorts. I was trying my hardest to peek at what he was going at so vehemently, but his impossible attitude kept bringing only his shoulder to my view. What did Dumbledore have that I couldn't know about or look at? He had to trust me; I took one of the dangerous tasks he had ever handed out by going back in time! And to place myself in front of a hungry, scaly Voldemort at his prime… I should be able to read a bloody notepad if I wanted to! In my dream, I was verbally hounding my Headmaster for it, and when I had enough, I yanked my time turner from my neck and threw it at his lap, rattling the poor old man from his haze.

I could vividly remember how his blue eyes seem to come alive again, and how his concentrated expression disappeared and a lighter one took its place. His new smile was so startling that I was almost blinded by the sheer happiness inside of me; it had been awhile since I saw somebody smile. It had been even longer since I had seen anyone I actually knew. What happened to switch the mood? "Dumbledore!" I called out loudly, trying to get his attention back to me. Once he allowed his mind to wander, sometimes he never go it back. "Where's Harry? Where's Ron? Please, just talk to me." I begged silently, slamming my hands on his cluttered desk. "Please…" The call was desperate and meek, but it was all I had left within me.

He promptly held up the yellow notepad, and upon it read "_Consume the nation, Hermione._" What? I sent him a quizzical look before I felt my body physically thrown across the room, the sloshed around some more for the fun of it. "Harry! Ron!" I called out, hoping they would pop up in my dream somehow. When the tossing became too much, I cried out in agony, wishing whatever force was at work would just grow tired of me. I screamed loudly and yelped for the life of me; the only pain worse was the wrath of a _Crucio_… but that was too long ago. Where were all of my friends when I needed them? Where were the missing members of the wondrous trio we created? "Tom!" I felt bruises begin and was minutely aware of blood drizzling from my nose down my chin. He was the only one I thought to call, when no one else could save me.

"Awake!" I heard his far-off voice command close to my ear. The room ceased to spin and the hands that once grabbed me and manhandled disappeared completely. In one instant, my eyes shot open and there he was- hovering protectively over me, our bodies still somehow intertwined from the night. Shallow breaths left me; it was too painful to think of all the missing components of my life! "Are you feeling draft, Hermione?"

I shook my head and continued to stare into his face. It wasn't easy to unsettle Tom, and my staring did nothing to make him uncomfortable- he only stared right back at me. I didn't know what I was feeling! The one dream I had about Dumbledore, and it contained one of his ludicrous mood swings and a silly note that he wouldn't let me see. And when I saw it… it told me to "consume the nation"? What sort of nonsense was Mr. Sandman playing at? I sat up and brought our faces closer. "You were with me the whole time." I murmured quietly. I sought closure with the last person I ever thought I would.

The pad of his thumb glided over my bottom lip sensually, and it was already far too wobbly to tease at such a moment! "I will forever be right next to you, Hermione." I nodded, betraying moisture slipping from my eyes and running down my long cheekbones. I was coming undone, and no one was saving me. Not Krum, not Harry Potter, not Dumbledore himself. No one cared that I was falling in love with the breathing form of darkness, and no one cared that felt hopeless. "And, you do not know how insanely mad," he brought my body flush up against his with a single tightening of arms as he ran his nose along my neck "hearing my name being called in your dreams drives me. If only, next time, I am a lover in a sappy dream and not a rough hero in a nightmare?"

I nodded, a small smile on my unwilling lips. Even if my dreams that consisted of Dumbledore and my friends had to be painful, I would have them every night of the rest of my stay. I needed them.


	14. Ballet Shoes

**A/N: Ballet is a weakness of mine! I just had to incorporate it in this story. Get ready for a **_**pointe **_**next chapter!**

Tom's hand massaged my bare leg beneath the table, and I was having too much fun to slap it away. There were ten other occupants at our wide, circular table- all of which were fathers and accessories to my modern day Slytherin bullies. Crabbe's and Goyle's grandfathers were as plump and willing to follow Malfoy's every order as they were in my day, and it almost made me sick when Malfoy leaned in and licked at his girlfriend's ear in front of everyone. I cringed in disgust and straightened my back, professionally hiding away the nasty scowl I would have given his grandson, Draco. "The bloke cant get his hands off Tilly for more than a few seconds; if I hadn't know any better, I would assume he was a smitten little chap!" Derec Zabini taunted his comrade softly, bringing comforting laughter to the awkwardness Malfoy brought.

Abraxsas sneered angrily. "Jealous, Zabini?" Tilly Parkinson was a girl with one too many love interests, and if she knew what commitment meant she didn't show it. It was always one man to the next, but from what I heard, it was always Abraxsas Malfoy. They quit relationships more than occasionally and followed each other's whims. "You wouldn't know what open legs, what with a prude on your arm- what shall you do? Seek a less than perfect substitute for her figure and fuck the witch's brains out?" I gasped in shock; they were friends! How did friends talk to each other like that? So what if Mia kept her legs closed and eyes open? I wanted to interject and defend a prude's honor, but then I remembered just how _open _my legs were. I pushed Tom's adventurous hand away and looked off in the distance, where the live band was playing a slow song.

Tom had taken my virginity. Tom had taken the only part of my young innocence I had left! I was just as horrible as Tilly Parkinson. "Keep your thoughts to yourself, Malfoy. If you cannot find demurity attractive, don't attempt to mask it with anger for another whom can." Tom lashed out and brought down the gavel of justice to the young Malfoy, and he said nothing in retaliation or reply. Not one peep! It must have been a wonderful thing to know that no one was going to object or deny what you deemed truth. Well, at least most of the time- all it took was one raven-haired little boy with a scar on his forehead to change everything. Our meal was served to us in a content silence, wherein the small cliques amongst the group broke off to socialize. No one in particular enjoyed Tom's conversation, but our hands were tightly intertwined on his lap. "Are you satisfied with the night's entertainment?" He inquired in a hushed tone near my ear.

I nodded and shoved a forkful of buttered lobster in my mouth. "This place is beautiful, and the food is great." In a moment of bravery, I pushed a small kiss against his lips before pulling back and returning to my plate of steamed shellfish. "And the music is swell!" That sounded lame to even my own ears, but I threw away the thought that I felt weird kissing him openly. Lots of couples showed affection publicly, and while I never wanted to show as much as Ron and Lavender did when they spent their time together, I did feel the need to shed some light on our relationship. I mean, if this was considered a _relationship_.

There was an indescribable smile on his ivory skin as he squeezed my small hand in his. "I meant my followers. Are the my followers treating you kindly? Has anyone offended your honor?" I shook my head happily, glad that he cared enough to ask. Even if someone had, I would never go running to Tom like a helpless little chit. I wasn't some defenseless gal with no experience in spell work or magical training- in any sense, Tom would have their heads and make more of a scene than necessary! "I was hesitant at first to attend this event; Death Eaters have a habit of advertising their ill-laced assets when a different crowd from their inner circles are present." I nodded; Harry and Ron were much like that, they loved showing their asses when I brought Ravenclaws around. "I promise that they will warm up to your presence." There was no room in his tone to argue with, so I merely nodded and went back to my plate.

"They're not so bad." I muttered at last, beaming down into the plate of fresh salad at my sudden easiness around everyone. They weren't a horrible group of lads, really. Derec Zabini was smart and sensible, Abraxsas was obnoxious, Tilly Parkinson was soft-spoken, albeit a tart when provoked, and Tom was the perfect leader- he was intelligent, calm, and capable of a wrath unheard of in this century. This generation of Crabbe and Goyle were slightly less obnoxious than the ones I first knew; everything was a lot calmer during this era. Tom unexpectedly pulled me from my seat and practically dragged me out to the dance floor, wherein I sent him a blazed expression as he situated his left arm around my middle and clasped my right hand tightly in his. My young Aunt Claudette was married two summers ago, and I was appointed to part of the raging bridal party… I made sure to avoid the basic bridal drama and girl fuss by only attending one class of the traditional waltz and then the actual wedding. But for that very expensive session my father paid for, I understood what it was to dance with a man.

Ballet did nothing for me emotionally. At a young age, it taught me that nothing was ever handed to you- the numerous girls I encountered only ever envied or teased me. My bushy hair, my large teeth, my vulnerable aura- flaws of mine that I would always be teased about! I was able to withstand Malfoy's taunts, tricks, and wars because of those rotten girls I danced with. "You are very light on your feet, and the natural sway of your body is ever so elegant." Tom murmured into my ear, making every tiny hair on my skin rise with the traitorous goose pimples on my flesh. "And the expression on your face is pushing me to the brink of insanity; this color is absolutely ravishing on you." He gestured to the pale pink number I squeezed into that evening by dropping my hand from his and pressing it against the open back of my gown. The black tie affair tonight housed nothing but impressive suits, slicked back hair, and very large gowns with diamond jewelry and red lipstick. Tom's mother was a size smaller than I, as she was rail thin, but my healthier assets showcased themselves appropriately in the satin dress she pressed me to wear.

She even took the liberty of styling my hair (magically, of course) and applying my cosmetic items. I would have never worn such scarlet lips with a pastel color, but Mishka was bold… and she wouldn't have cared what anybody thought. "Why aren't your parents here?" I inquired softly, staring him down to find the truth.

His steel eyes flickered over my face before he licked his pink lips and answered. "My mother isn't fond of the gossip she hears." I thought back to what he said about his mother being quite the scarlet letter, so I left it alone at that. "Every wizard in this room has a vulgar thing to say about me- most of what they say is true. I am a monster, I am heartless to those who serve no adequate purpose to me, I am nothing more than a carcass of a human being- soul ripped right out of him." Tom had obviously wanted to say that to me for some time now, because the look in his eyes told me there was a storm brewing. "All so true." He took a step back and twirled me around once, yanking my arm so we were flush against each other in the next instant.

"You aren't any of that- mean, yes, you can be very hurtful. Inconsiderate at times, I will agree. But it's not as far as _monstrous _and _evil _as they say, Tom, believe me. I've seen evil," I blinked a few times before looking up at him again, "and you aren't it." He wasn't evil, not yet! This wasn't nasty and ugly like I thought it'd be- so far, I hadn't witnessed any deaths or mysterious spells gone wrong. I didn't have to constantly watch my back or wonder if I was going to see the next sunrise- I was well taken care of. In the next moment, we were filing off of the dance floor, and he steadily ignored the call of his minions as he dragged me out of Belle Plaza of Opera and the Arts (the banquet hall sounded awfully familiar, I just couldn't place it) and out into Muggle London's cold sidewalk. We were in the wee hours of the morning, midnight just an hour behind us- but I was suddenly drained and exhausted. I just wanted to get back to Riddle Manor and sleep.

I hated apparition, but it was our only true means of transportation. Flooing was even more nauseating and any form of Muggle transportation was looked upon in elite shame during these times. "There are truths you need to be in knowledge of." His whisper in the dark of his quiet childhood home sent shivers down my spine. These shivers weren't of pleasure- they were of fear.

**A/N:**

**Sooooooooooo? I think Hermione is long overdue for some truths. As I said earlier, ballet is a definite weakness of mine. I love the culture and background of the art, and it adds such color and luster to your life- I would suggest everyone take at least one beginners lesson and see if they aren't in love with ballet!**

**I'd like to hear your take on ballet and the fine art that it is (or isn't?). **


	15. All That Power

It wasn't hard to fall for Tom's expertise in the art of romance- he was so good at it, it was like charm was just this natural component to his personality. But I had seen him angry before, with all charm and beauty lost, so I knew first handedly that no- kindness wasn't second nature or anything easy for him. Anger and contempt was. So, where he was able to pull stuff like this off I'll never know. There hundred and hundreds of flower around his room, smiling right me in their full bloom. As soon as we stepped foot into his wing of the Manor, you could smell there right under your nose. "Tom, they're beautiful-" I began, trying to find that special word that described them.

His mouth pressed against mine, and his experienced fingers undid the clasp and pulled down the zipper of my dress. How had he known the right moment to bring me back, and how did he get all of these different plant life here? It was a cold winter in Europe currently. "Your body, Hermione, tastes exquisite." I trembled when his mouth touched my bare shoulder, but I kept my arms wrapped around his waist when I felt my knees start to churn to butter. His touch was a like white-hot fire, but I wasn't in the want to get burned. I actually wanted to know what those truths were.

"Tom?" He answered with a muffled, _"mm, love?", _and it took all the self-preservation I had left to pull away from his touch and look him in the eye. "I need to hear what you've got to say." I took a few steps back in a meek gesture of confidence, but I knew that if he closed the gap with one prideful step, I would be putty in his hands. Luckily, he took my lead and nodded in understanding. Yes, answers!

"I took you from the party tonight with a single, solitary promise that you would finally learn what you have been so wanting to know for months now." That sentence sent a icy chill down my spine, which was a sensation so akin to fear for me. What did he mean by "for months now"? I hid my hands behind my dress when they began to shake nervously. If he knew the truth about me… if this all came crumbling down right now, I was dead- dead, without a single trace of my existence! He could wipe me off of the face of the earth if he felt so inclined to, Dumbledore was so many decades away from me and Harry was patiently awaiting my return in 2010.

"You trust me so, don't you?" Tom was starting to scare me when he put his large hands on either side of my head and pressed his thumbs firmly on both temples. "Oh, Hermione, you are one lovely girlfriend." I froze at his term for me. Tom was pressing so firmly that I knew their would red indentations and even an ache to follow when he would finally let go of me. I blinked erratically to fight the sudden fatigue I felt. Was this my defense mechanism, to _sleep _through my problems? "Hermione Granger, a bright witch in her own right, the wittiest sixth year I have ever been in company with." He said in bemusement, as if it were a floating thought in his head rather than something he had said aloud. "We are the perfect match, one might reckon. Like all other realistic relationships, we have highs and lows. But do you know our worst problem, Hermione? Hmm, why aren't you as eager to answer now as you are in the classroom?"

Tom moved his hands to the nape of my neck and then moved on to my hair- he took two handfuls of my styled locks and yanked roughly at them to pry a whimper from my small mouth. What was he expecting me to do, point out all of our flaws and reprimand him for them? "Tom…" I whined in irritation and shoved his chest away, but he only pushed himself more on me and my head hit the stone wall behind me painfully. "Ow!" I yelped out. My eyes grew glossy and my nose threatened to run with rejected tears at the intense pain I was having. Tom's erratic chuckle smelled of pure alcohol and his eyes were as intense as they could get. "You've had too much to drink." I whispered in warning. He was taking this too far, things were getting too serious and painful for my liking.

"And you haven't nearly enough, darling." Tom rebutted playfully before letting his hands wander down my neck until his fingers clasped around my throat. He squeezed gently at first. "You don't love me." Tom Riddle kept his eyes on mine the entire time he spoke, and we were just a breath away from each other. Was this how he was when he drank too much? His character dropped a few notches in my mind, and what he would continue to do as the night waned on could have completely ruined his image that was so forcefully implanted in my mind. Why had I ever fought so hard for my feelings in the first place? He was a plain lush, and alcoholics came in all different varieties- not juts muggles, but also wizards as well.

"Truly, you don't; I can tell when I look into your eyes. But you know that I love you with every single piece of my being, or what's left of it anyway." His eyes looked moist, but I refused to allow my own emotions to cloud my present judgment. I could be dealing with a very sticky situation here- he was right, I didn't love him, and I knew his feelings for me were crystal clear. Above all, I was here on a mission. Subjects needed to be handled, circumstances needed to be dealt with, answers needed to be given, and results needed to be achieved. "You're going to abuse me for that fact, aren't you? You're going to take advantage of Lord Voldemort, the highest ruler of the century. You're going to apply your intelligence and undying wit to surpass my greatness, though I haven't decided just what you plan to do with the power."

"I don't want any power." I choked out, as his tight grip on my throat was growing tighter every second. "And I've never used you!"

"Shut up!" He slammed my head against the stone wall once, then twice. I remained still; what was flailing like a rag doll going to do at a moment like this? I brought my knee up to his groin, but he deflected the move easily and in return I received a sharp fist to the gut. It nearly knocked the air out of my body, and I began choking on all of the carbon dioxide I was trying to use for oxygen. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!" For every "shut up", he threw me against the wall again. His usually kept hair was now a stringy mess of raven wisps, and that was when I saw the real mad man that was Tom Riddle. Or perhaps, more formally known as Lord Voldemort.

**Malfoy Manor**

**October 12, 2012**

"Master Malfoy, there is a call awaiting your presence in the Drawing Room, would you like to me to transfer it to your private fireplace?" Chashe, his personal assistant and smartest substitution for a house elf, bowed lowly after his speech. Draco Malfoy brought both of his feet down from his glass desk and straightened up his coal, five-piece suit after nodding. The youngest heir to the Malfoy fortune was spent, thinking of one million different things that day; the top of the list, and foremost in his mind, was the missing person's report on Hermione Granger. "Very well, sir, and may I ask if there is any news of your friend, Miss Granger?"

Draco smiled in bitterness. "No, you may not ask me such personal questions." Chashe was use to his childish actions and smart remarks, and so without another word, he nodded chastely and made his way out of the room the same way he came. Draco's mind drifted back to Hermione and for some reason, he thought about her petite figure and heart shaped lips, rather than the fact that she dropped from the face of the Earth. He entered the drawing room and took the floo call, immediately regretting the decision when his pervious headmaster's face popped up. "Professor Dumbledore, to what do I owe this pleasure?" There was sickly sweetness dripping from his sharp voice as he spoke, but his old professor smiled nonetheless.

Nothing could affect this man, it would seem. "It is also nice to see you, young sir, after so long. Tell me, how are you fairing these days?" Dumbledore's wise voice filled the usually cold and speculative room.

Draco Malfoy almost sneered at the way this old man made him feel. As if there was still hope for all, even after Hogwarts. "I am well." That was far more of a response than he would ever give anyone else. "As you must know, I am a very busy wizard, sir, so I must ask just what service I can render you." These days, it was a widely known fact that Draco was the true official example of a double agent. He worked for the Missing Persons And Magical Creatures Department by day and bowed to his almighty leader by night- it was the kind of life no one but Draco Malfoy could enjoy living. He loved it! Being pardoned from all criminal speculation by just working for the Ministry? It was almost too easy to take the shortcut life offered him.

Lord Voldemort was going to strike hell unto this world sooner than later, and Draco didn't plan on being around when all of Dumbledore's Army fell to their knees in unabridged pleading for their lives. Dumbledore only smiled at the young boy, showcasing a few rotted teeth and more facial hair. "I understand Hermione Granger, a former student of mine, has made it on the Missing Persons of the Magical World list." Draco nodded, goading the old fool into spitting it out already. "I need you to forgo that case file, Mr. Malfoy."

The two locked eyes for almost a straight minute before Malfoy chuckled angrily, not liking the finality in his former headmaster's tone. No one told him what to do anymore, and seeing as both Narcissa and Lucius did exactly as they were told, he didn't listen to his parents with much respect. "You want me to forgo on the case of infamous Hermione Granger, the woman that went missing two long years ago? Well, she's Harry Potter's dearest friend and War buddy, do you truly believe that the Ministry will be pleased when I have no proof of ever looking for her? If you see that with any realm of possibility, you are as mad as they say you are." Draco was done with all of the false pleasantries and polite cover-ups to fix the malicious overtones he used. Though Lord Voldemort was pleased that her absence meant Harry Potter was slightly weakened, he had this awful fascination with her whereabouts. If only this old buffoon knew how hard Draco had already been looking for her, he would have saved a solid hour of his currently wilting life.

"Ah, but young Mister Malfoy, you are not seeing things as they truly are." All of that mysterious, riddle-infused talk Dumbledore did really irked his nerves to no end. "Ms. Granger's unknown whereabouts serves a much greater purpose than we shall ever be able to grasp."

"Meaning what?" Draco all but barked out. He had this unsettling feeling that Dumbledore was here for more than a favor. This somehow all circled back around and landed to him. He could still remember the time of day he learned Hermione has gone missing… while he proved to have no intimate or personal relations with the muggleborn, she was still just a teenager with a now snatched away future and he was only seventeen then. He had a lot more compassion back then. "Dumbledore, she's been gone for over two years." Draco hadn't realized how choked his voice came out until his professor sent him one of those pitiful, sympathetic looks. While he felt as though he was heartless, Malfoy actually felt pain for her. She wasn't half as bad as the two idiots she trampled around with, and she ultimately deserved to live a lot more than they did. "It is time to do something about her missing status. Whether the girl's dead or alive, the people need to know." Lord Voldemort needed to know, and so it was Draco's now _lifelong _duty to see to it that truth was exposed. Maybe not for the rest of the Wizardry world, but for his almighty leader.

"She is nearly eighty years back in time, I do doubt you will ever be able to find her." Dumbledore said almost proudly, seemingly enjoying the gob smacked look on Draco's face. "I sent on a crusade for the salvation of both wizard and mind kind alike, but I must warn you- try to interfere now, and you will be sorely mistaken in action. They will only be regrets of yours." Draco's mind spun like one of those muggle carnival rides did- he actually sent one of his students back in time? When she went missing, they all had just finished their seventh and final year at Hogwarts- how could he do such a thing to a young girl?

"Granger time-traveled? But how? And by crusade… you mean," Malfoy's pale face instantly reddened with the embarrassment of just realizing something that was so obvious, and then the anger that followed the dawn of truth, "you sabotaged Lord Voldemort by sending that girl back to his time? What in bloody hell!" Malfoy couldn't necessarily curse this fool into oblivion like he so wished he could.

"Don't sound so disappointed, Mister Malfoy, I wasn't aware the two of you were so close." The maniacal glint in Dumbledore's eyes sent small, bruised shivers down his spine. Dumbledore knew exactly why he was acting so outraged, and it had nothing to do with compassion for the muggleborn! "But I fear that is exactly what brought me here. You see, this affects you as much as it affects the Dark Lord." I seemed Dumbledore would always despise the word "Voldemort".

"And in what way?" Draco was to the point. It only got truly interesting when it became about him. If this was bait, he was hook, line, and sinker at this very point.

"Miss Granger is currently in the middle of her sixth year at Hogwarts in 1942- meaning she is classmates with Abraxas Malfoy, your great grandfather. Very soon, there will be a moment in time when Abraxas meets Jillianna Houvfere- your great grandmother, but if that moment does not happen, Lucius Malfoy is not born." Draco didn't care much that his useless, backstabbing father's life was at harm- bloody hell, he would have celebrated that fact had Dumbledore not delivered his next piece of a message! "And by a series of events, that means that you will have never existed. Events change in the present as moments take a different form in the past- every cause has an effect, you must understand that, right, Mr. Malfoy?" Malfoy gritted his teeth at Dumbledore's hidden jibe. "You are a smart boy, I knew you would eventually find this piece of information out for yourself. I came here as a warning- do not act on any impulses to retrieve her yourself, and attempting a time traveling spell is too far complex for just one young man as yourself to successfully attempt in any sense. Time travel is weary- time progresses three times slower than the present- a rule of nature, as I see to it."

Malfoy smirked. "Don't think I can handle it, Dumbledore?"

He smirked half-heartedly. "If the Malfoys still exist after next week, I will know so." But then the more serious expression came back on his face, "It is a promise, Mister Malfoy, that only bad will come of your interference. The Dark Lord should not know of your new knowledge either, young man, there is no telling the reign of hell-bent evil that _may _or may _not _come with such power."

The funny thing was, Draco Malfoy no longer wanted any of this power.

**A/N:**

**Power.**

**The next update is August 20****th****.**


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